Beauty and the Geese
by Shadows' Nightmare
Summary: Seras is a prudish tavern maid working in a poor provincial town. The Wild Geese are perverted mercenaries quartered there till the incoming war. The two clash in every way. However, when Seras is targeted by the unscrupulous town hero and the Geese's loyalty to the monarch is brought into question, can the two look past appearances and stand by each other in their times of need?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: A humble tribute to add to the depressingly small pile of Seras and Pip stories. I'll admit that coming up with fully fledged stories for these two is hard for me too, so I can't say I blame others. That said, I always liked the idea of Seras as an olde tyme maiden working in a poor provincial town, with the Wild Geese as lodged soldiers that she clashes with, but I could never think of a story to go with the setting. Then, the answer came to me while watching the opening song to Beauty and the Beast.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Beauty and the Beast. They're both excellent stories, though.

* * *

In a country ravished by war, Seras Victoria presided in one of the few provinces untouched by the marching drums or exploding guns. While they were much poorer from rationing crops and animals for troops, and trade from other provinces had declined from the battles far away, they still lived in relative peace and quiet. If one did not wish to pay attention to the news, they could go about their days without even thinking of the wars their nation was part of.

On a clear summer morning, Seras stepped out of her little room to go to market. She admired the birds singing and the creek babbling as she passed, and swung her little hand basket as she walked. She wore a simple, yellow French peasant's dress. Typical of the fashion, it consisted of a thick petticoat under an ankle-length skirt, a long apron over said skirt, a rather tight bodice to accentuate her womanly figure, and long, loose sleeves. However, she put a slight English spin to the French fashion by keeping the chemise tied all the way up her neck and her thick sleeves covering her wrists rather than being pulled up to her elbows.

All in all, she looked to be a sweet, beautiful girl in a sweet, beautiful scene. She had the rare combination of looking innocent and childlike, yet voluptuous and womanly. Her large eyes were clear blue and her pale face as sweet and innocent as it was pretty. She smiled dreamingly as she walked.

"_Little town…"_ she sang quietly under her breath, for she was the singing type, _"It's a quiet village. Every day… like the one before… Little town, full of little people, waking up to say…"_

Right on cue, the shops and windows and doors all opened to people starting their day.

"Bonjour!" they called.

"Bonjour!"

"Bonjour!"

"Bonjour!"

"Bonjour!" Seras grinned.

To herself, she said, "There goes the baker, with his tray like always. The same old bread and rolls to sell," yet, she smiled as she said it. She loved the safety, security, and familiarity of the scene. "Every morning just the same since the morning that I came to this dear provincial town…"

"Good morning, Seras Victoria!" the baker exclaimed. He was a big, boisterous man with a booming voice.

"Good morning, monsieur!" she cried.

"Where you off to?"

"The market," she replied, "I just found the most wonderful recipe of honey cakes with apricots and…"

"That's nice," he interrupted. "MARIE! THE BAGGETTES! HURRY UP!"

She'd hoped to discuss it with him since he was a baker, but pocketed her recipe book, shrugged and walked away. Oh yeah. After enjoying the beautiful morning, Seras suddenly remembered why she didn't fully like living in this town. The people.

"Look, there she goes. That girl is strange, no question," two gossiping older women said to each other.

"Just look, the way she walks and stares? Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?"

Seras stood straighter and walked with a more focused gaze, though it got criticisms too.

"Acting like she's all above the crowd…" said some others.

"When her blood's as common as any of ours."

"No denying, she's a funny girl, that Seras Victoria…"

Whether she heard them or not, Seras never gave any outward impression, as she hopped onto the back of a horse-drawn wagon through town. She smiled and watched people go about their day with genuine interest and fondness.

"Bonjour!" the wagon-driver called to a young lady walking by.

"Good day!" the young lady answered.

"How is your family?" he enquired.

"Bonjour," said a beautiful young lady to the butcher.

"Good day," he said, openly ogling over her breasts.

"How is your wife?" she smiled coyly, turning away.

The butcher's very large shrew of a wife then glared and smacked him on the head with a rolling pin.

Over at the chicken farmer's vendor, a much harried, over-weight housewife struggling with six squirming babies cried desperately, "I need six eggs!"

"That's too expensive," a gruff man said to the potter.

Despite its flaws, Seras enjoyed the goings of provincial life. And she hoped off the wagon and into the her desired shop with a flip of her skirt.

On the other side of town, the first several Wild Geese filed into town. They were all scruffy, hang-dog fellows still in their military garb, since they hadn't had a decent place to sleep in days. They'd hitched rides on hay wagons as they were dirt broke, and strange weather had separated them over the night's journey, but they and the rest would soon be here. It was for the best, though. If the entire unit had filed in at once, it would cause more of a stir in the village proper anyway. They knew their presence would cause quite a stir once the people realized how many there were, but in the mean time they were taking in their surroundings.

"Jesus, just look at this place," one of them said, "This has got to be the quaintest village I've ever seen."

"You'd think there was no war going on, the way these bastards carry on."

"Eh, they don't worry about that because it's far enough away that it doesn't affect them," their captain said, casually lighting a cigarette. "'Out of sight, out of mind.'"

His men sniggered. "Heh, they're going to find out soon enough."

"They won't be able to ignore it once the emperor's troops make it here."

"Eh, they could end up going by way of the pass instead of the valley," their captain replied, "Either way, we 'ave some time to kill until the main army makes it our… way…"

Their Captain trailed off as he spoke. In the midst of the market—walking right towards them—was one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen. In a sea of rough, coarse, bustling, shouting peasants, all bartering and shipping goods to and fro, this one little girl slipped fluidly through the crowd with a smile on her face and a book in her hands. She had the largest, clearest blue eyes, the softest, palest skin, and wore a clean, simple yellow dress that accentuated her clean, simple beauty.

For the first time in his life, Pip stood speechless as a pretty girl walked towards him.

"Bonjour, Monsieur," she said cheerfully, without fully looking up, and walked right past him.

Again, Pip didn't say anything. He just watched her as she blended back into the crowd, like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

His silence didn't escape his men's notice.

"Jesus, Captain. What was that all about?"

"What's the matter? Pussy cat got your tongue?"

"Feh, you wish," he scowled, lighting another cigarette. He played it cool and casual, yet at the first opportunity he asked an old man who that was.

"Hmph. Funny you should ask me, when I don't think I know who you are!"

"Eh, us? We're new here. Just passing through. Tell me, you know anything about that girl?"

The man looked. "Oh, **that**?" He burst into laughter, "That's Seras Victoria! Hope you aren't planning to woo her, young man, 'cause you'd be wasting your time!"

"You're be better off chasing some other bird," said of the old man's, "That girl's funny."

Pip raised a quizzical brow while inhaling deeply from his cigarette. "Funny, how?"

"Not funny 'ha ha,' funny 'queer.'"

Pip quirked a lecherous brow. "Really?"

"Yeah, there's no doubt that girl's peculiar."

"I don't think she's very well," said another, tapping his head.

"Yeah," grunted another, "she's quite a puzzle to the rest of us, that Seras Victoria."

On further questioning, Pip found that the girl possessed several oddities that the town found… off. She was English, yet lived in France, despite the countries' bitter rivalry. She carried herself with graces and airs of a young lady, yet she was as common as the rest of them. She had moved to the town almost three years before, yet she was still not part of any crowd. A few men had made her offers of marriage over the last few years, yet she had turned them all down.

Pip felt his interest pique at this. So, the girl was beautiful but didn't want to marry, eh? Sounded like just his type.

"Man, crazy beauty and an outcast to boot?" one of his men said, "Did Christmas come early this year?"

"No, stupid. They say she doesn't want to be wooed, remember?"

"Pfft! That's what they all say until they find a dish they like."

No need to go further into _that_ conversation.

"Why do you think she's so prudish, anyway?"

"Probably some pious farmer's daughter or something."

The Geese smirked lecherously to one another. As mercenaries fighting in wars, they had often been lodged and quartered up in towns small farms and towns in or near where they were fighting. Men at arms were infamous for their "appetites," and many a strict farmer had tried to lock their self-professed "chaste" and "pious" daughters from them... yet, inevitably, the girls always welcomed the mercenaries into their rooms before night's end. Especially for their captain, who had the best looks and charm. They figured it would be the same for this girl. If any man could woo her, it was their captain.

The Captain's blood set a boil at the thought, and he leered after her. "I know who I'm bedding first."

His men smirked, "That's the spirit, Captain!"

On the outskirts of town, a small band of horsemen returned from a morning hunt. Of all of them, one man in particular stood out as a far superior horseman and hunter. He rode with far more skill than any of the others, and fired his bow and guns with the most precision and accuracy. He never missed a target. Though it was still early, he already had a large bundle of furs from that morning's hunt alone. Even after he had returned, dismounted, and straightened out his coat, he managed to easily shoot down a duck from a flock flying directly overhead. Several women swooned and fanned themselves at this.

His companion, a swarthy young man with yellow eyes, shot forward and easily caught it mid-air.

"FUCK YEAH! That's ten for ten, bro!" he cheered, stuffing the bird into a burlap sack.

"An easy score," the hunter replied carelessly, flipping his hair aside.

He was a tall and pale, with long blond hair tied together with a bow at the end, and elegantly dressed in an impeccable riding suit. Said suit consisted of knee-high riding boots, crème-colored riding pants, a suit top of sorts, and a long crème overcoat with tails. He also wore white riding gloves and a large top hat, though he deftly removed these and placed them on the saddle of his horse. He accepted praise from onlookers as his homage, and easily dismissed the stable boy who came to put his horse away with the wave of his hand.

"No, seriously, man, you're fucking _made_ for this shit!"

"I know," he replied smugly, and strutted away.

"No shit, bro," his brother said, lugging a bundle of furs from the morning's hunt over his shoulder, "No beast alive stands a chance against you… and no whore for that matter."

"It's true, Jan, though it's a wife I'm after. I have my sights set on that one," he said, pointing his gun toward Seras Victoria.

A ways ahead, Seras had paused to buy some berries from a local farmer's daughter, who had set up shop.

"Huh?" Jan said, "The little prude bitch?"

"She's the one," the hunter said, "The lucky girl I'm going to marry!"

"You sure you want that one, bro? She's…"

"The most beautiful girl in town!"

"Yeah, but…"

"That makes her the best," he interrupted, not wanting any of his brother's usual sass. "And don't I deserve the best?"

"Of course you do! Come on, bro! There're way better lambs to skewer than…"

Luke clocked his brother on the head with the barrel of his gun to shut him up.

"Right from the moment, when I met her, saw her," Luke continued, "I said 'She's gorgeous,' and I fell…"

Jan's eyes widened when he saw her. "Ugh… bro…"

"Here in town, there is only she," Luke continued, "who is beautiful as me, so I'm making plans to woo and marry the Victoria belle…"

It was only when he tore his eyes away from his own reflection that he noticed Seras Victoria walking away, and went after her.

A ways behind him, a few very pretty young barmaids were openly admiring Luke as they filled buckets with water from the pump.

"Look! There he goes," they said, "Isn't he dreamy?"

"Yo! What up, little chickies?" Jan cried, leaning against the pump to leer at their breasts.

Pretending not to hear him, the girls all slammed down on the pump. The way he was positioned, the water blasted right into Jan's face, causing him to cough and sputter. "Monsieur Luke Valentine! Oh, he's so cool!" they cried as Jan tried to wipe the water off his soaked clothes. They weren't anything fancy, just a coarse tunic, trousers and boots for farming. Still, they were soppy and heavy when wet.

"Be still, my heart!" they all cried, still openly fawning and fanning themselves over his brother Luke. "I'm hardly breathing!"

"Oh, fuck this," Jan grumbled, and carried that morning's furs after his brother.

The girls continued, "Oh, that Luke! He's such a tall, dark, suave and handsome Casanova!"

Everyone knew the Valentines were one of the wealthier families in town. They had a generous amount of land, some private woods to go hunting, and even owned a business in town. Luke was the older and more responsible of the brothers. Intelligent and charismatic, Luke dressed and carried himself with more grace and elegance than most men in town, yet he still excelled at all the "rustic" hobbies they valued, particularly hunting. He was the town heart-throb for the ladies due to his looks, and the envy of the men due to his wealth and skill… and he knew it far too well.

Jan was the proverbial "prodigal son," wasting his family's money on excessive gambling, drinking and whoring. Most knew that Luke alone just barely kept his loud, vulgar little brother in line. Yet, to his credit, Jan was usually open to doing whatever job his brother told him, especially if it involved killing or fucking something. Their family raised livestock for the slaughter, and Jan was rather skilled with butchering and eviscerating the animals… though most townsfolk liked to turn a blind eye to how much he enjoyed it.

Most knew that Luke was the brains of the family, while Jan was the brute muscle. Luke would manage the numbers and finances and breeding plans, while Jan would do the grunt work of running the farm. Luke would often go hunting, while Jan would skin and strip the carcasses afterwards. Surprisingly, the two seemed quite satisfied with their roles within the family. Jan didn't seem to resent his brother's leadership or popularity, and seemed content to do his work as long as he got to go sinning afterwards. Despite how much they bickered, the two even seemed to enjoy a strange symbiosis for years… until Luke decided it was time to take a wife to carry on the family lineage.

And Seras Victoria was the girl he chose.

Presently, he tried to pursue her in the market as a hunter pursues a doe, but he quickly got caught up in the tangled forest of people.

"Bonjour!" a woman cried.

"Pardon," Luke said, trying to brush past them.

"Good day," Seras said to passers-by.

"Mais oui!" a woman cried.

Luke couldn't even call out to her because of all the noise from the hustle and bustle of the market. A whole crowd of people bartering and haggling all at once.

"You call this bacon?"

"What sourly grapes!"

"Some cheese?"

"Ten yards!"

"One pound..."

"Excuse me!" Luke tried to cry over the crowd.

"I'll get the knife," said the cheese merchant.

"Please let me through!" Luke cried.

He really did look ridiculous. A pompous, over-dressed dandy man trying unsuccessfully to weed through a crowd of working peasants to pursue a girl who didn't even realize he was there. The hustle of the crowd continued on as before, with people buying and selling and haggling and bargaining.

"This bread - "

"Those fish - "

"It's stale!"

"They smell!

"Madame's mistaken."

"Well, maybe so-"

"Good morning!"

"Oh, good morning!"

In the midst of it all, Seras Victoria clutched her book to her chest and cried joyously, "I want nothing more than this provincial life!"

"Just watch!" Luke said to those who were paying attention, "I'm going to make that girl my wife!"

The people in the crowd closet to him gasped. Most continued to go about their business, but those who had heard him cried:

"What? You could do so much better!"

"Oh, that girl is strange, but special!"

"Oui, a most peculiar mademoiselle."

Luke ignored their advice and continued to pursue her, finding a path around the crowd.

"It's a pity and a sin she doesn't _quite_ fit in," the people that the Geese talked to had said.

"Because she really is a funny girl - "

"A beauty, but a funny girl - "

"She really is a funny girl, that Seras Victoria."

By the time Seras was on to the fact that anyone even noticed her, everyone had forgotten about her and gone back to their daily routine. She shrugged and turned back to her book, smiling fondly at the pages. It was at this moment that Luke Valentine approached her from behind. He brushed back a strand of his hair and straightened his riding coat, confident that he would easily woo her. In his most charming baritone, he leaned over to her and murmured, "Hello, Seras Victoria," in her native English.

Seras yelped and dropped her book. She whipped her head around, and visibly relaxed when she saw who it was. "B-bonjour, Monsieur Valentine."

"Oh, Seras," he chuckled, "You don't need to stand on formality with me. You and I both speak the English tongue."

Seras seemed a little put off by his attempt to act so intimate with her. "Be that as it may..."

But Luke ignored her. "Hello, what's this?" he murmured huskily, picking up her book.

Seras tried to take it from him, but he easily lifted it out of reach, flipping through its pages.

Seras sighed with frustration. "Luke Valentine, may I have my book please?" she growled, trying to suppress her annoyance.

"Why would you read this?" he sneered, flipping through the pictures, "It's all children's fairy tales!"

"Well, sometimes stories like that help me with my French," Seras said, blushing and frowning defensively.

Luke closed it and smirked at her, "Seras, you've been living in this town long enough that you no longer stories like these."

"But I - "

"Besides," he continued, tossing her book aside, "It's about time you got your head out of those books and paid attention to more important things..." Seras went to retrieve it, but he stepped between her and it. She glared up at him, but he didn't seem to notice. "... Like marriage," he concluded, flashing his most charming grin.

The barmaids in the background swooned and fluttered their lashes. Seras frowned him and picked up her book anyway.

"The whole town's talking about it," he grimaced, "It's not right for a woman to read! Soon she starts getting ideas and... thinking..."

"Luke Valentine, that is really none of your concern," Seras said, wiping the dirt from her book with her apron.

She wasn't an avid reader, but she _really_ didn't appreciate people taking her things or telling her what she could do. Particularly men.

"Of course it is," he said, slinging an arm around her waist and pulling her back into town, "I just want to make sure you reach your full potential in this town." So saying, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder (a very unwelcome touch for Seras, who visibly frowned and tried to flinch away). "Now, what would you say we return to the tavern and have a look at some of my freshly acquired trophies?"

"Maybe some other time," Seras said as he tried to lead her away.

The barmaids (or "bimbettes" as Seras secretly liked to call them), were affronted by Seras' refusal.

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's crazy!"

"He's _gorgeous_!"

They all went back to being doe-eyed over him.

Like a doe pursued by a hunter though, Seras tore away from him and held her arms over her chest defensively. "Please, Mr. Valentine, I can't! I'll come over and see your trophies when I return to work tonight. For now, I have to run a few more errands and spend time with my friend before she moves away. Good bye."

Luke was affronted by her rejection, but his brother Jan suddenly burst out into laughter. "You talking about that crazy little Dutch loon?* Hope she's moving to an asylum! She needs all the help she can get!" And Luke started snickering with him.

"Don't talk about my friend that way!" Seras snapped, so angrily and suddenly that the brothers flinched.

"... Yeah! Don't talk about her friend that way!" Luke said to his brother, trying to win favor with Seras.

"Rip Van Winkle is not crazy!" Seras cried firmly, "She's a genius!"

A shot rang out and a bullet burst from the roof of a straw cottage far away. The two brothers laughed, while Seras yelped and ran to it.

A few of the Geese, who happened to be watching from a distance, smirked and laughed.

"Looks like you don't stand a chance in Hell, Captain."

"She turned down the town heart-throb. There's no way she'll go for the likes of us."

"Eh, lay off it," their captain said, turning back to town, "There's plenty of other sheep in the flock."

And so Seras faded from public conscious as quietly as she entered it. She went about her day and most others went about theirs. All except for Luke Valentine, who was highly affronted and confused as to why a girl he put the moves on had rejected his advances, but bruised egos are slow to heal. Jan had gone to the brothel to get over the rejection by the bimbettes.

Over the course of the day and evening, the Geese began filing into the village proper, and news soon spread of their presence. Most people were naturally affronted and suspicious. It seemed like a confirmation that the war they'd heard about was truly real and finally coming to their province, and many reacted with due fear and dread. Aside from that, most people did not like or trust soldiers at the best of times. Grizzled, scruffy, foreign mercenaries? Even less so. Most of the Wild Geese were Irishmen, or descended by the Irish that left the homeland following the Treaty of Limerick (famously known as the "Flight of the Wild Geese"**) who now served under contract for the French Army.

Their Captain, Pippen de Bernadotte (or "Pip" as he was called by his Gaelic fellows), was French born and raised, though his Irish heritage could be seen in his green eyes (well, eye) and red-brown hair. Still, he had enough rustic charm and familiarity with the French language and customs to put the villagers a little more at ease; though a dark gloom still settled over the villagers. Many regarded them as little better than a plague or parasites to eat their already poor town alive, since soldiers were infamous for their "appetites," be it food, drink, or women. To the villagers, their arrival signaled the coming war which would ravish the region and their presence signaled a hefty depletion in their resources in the weeks, if not months to come. It was a melancholy prospect.

Still, the Geese took it all in stride, and after night fell they went to the one place where they knew men like them would always be welcome: the local tavern, for lodging and drinks. It was a nice, warm, quaint little tavern with animal hides strung across the floors and animal trophy heads covering the walls. A few voluptuous women in tight bodices and heavily exposed cleavages served drinks to thirsty men, enjoying a pint before going home to their wives.

The barkeeper was coarse with them at first, but assured them if they didn't make trouble, no one in the village would make trouble for them.

He then whistled to a barmaid leaning over a table, currently serving drinks to a few men playing cards, whose back was turned to the Geese. "Oi, Missy! You've got more customers over here!"

"Okay!" she called, smiling and spinning around with a large tray filled with a large pitcher and cups of beer.

When she saw who they were, she gasped and dropped the tray. It fell to the ground with such a loud shatter that most eyes turned to her.

"Seras!" the barkeeper scolded, "What's gotten into you?!"

She didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes were widen with terror, and her face turned deathly pale, and she slowly wandered backwards. "Oh no," she whispered in her native English, slowly shaking her head with horror, "Not more soldiers."

Captain Pip was just as surprised to see her as she was of him, though for a different reason. He bolted out of his chair and approached her curiously. "Oh no," he said, "Wait... just hold on," he said, approaching her, "You... You are really a barmaid?!"

By this time, she was backed up against the wall and he was standing within arm's reach of her. He was at least a full head taller and broader than her and decked in full military garb, while she was small and meek and dressed only in her barmaid outfit. It was the same dress she wore in town, only with a tight-laced underbust corset to push up her large breasts (and suck her waist into a very exaggerated hour-glass figure), her chemise pulled open to expose her generous cleavage, and her long sleeves pulled up to her elbows. She had much more skin showing than before, and so looked much more vulnerable and sexualized. She didn't seem to notice though; just looked up at the tall, dark, rugged, shadowed figure with deep trepidation.

However, she visibly forced herself to suppress her horror and nausea. "Y-yes," she said, putting a great deal of effort to smile. "I-I am. B... H-hello!"

The Captain just stared at her for the longest time. She still looked sweet and innocent enough, yet she dressed as a barmaid. It was like seeing the priest's pious daughter dancing at a cabaret.

Seras simpered, but otherwise remained apprehensive of his reaction.

Then, to her surprise, he burst out laughing! And many of his cohorts chortled. Yet he alone laughed so hard he was close to tears. "A barmaid!" he exclaimed. "Ah, this is rich! The way everyone talked about you, I thought you were a wealthy farmer's daughter or something."

"Oh really?" Seras grumbled, glaring at the barkeep and other patrons. "Nice way to generalize."

"Aw, man, I don't believe this!" he exclaimed, tears in the corners of his eyes and his hand on the side of his head, "And here I thought you were unspoiled fruit! If you are a barmaid, then I'm the Prince of France!" And he leaned toward her, grinning and trying to grope her with his large hands.

From her perspective, Seras saw only a large, shady soldier reaching toward her with gloved hands.

Seras gasped, then her wrist shot forward and broke his nose.

Pip yelped, and his head flew back from the force of impact. Blood spurted from his nose and covered his face, and he panted in pain and surprise.

Seeing a soldier covered in blood in front of her didn't help Seras much better, and she fled outright.

The whole tavern was in an uproar. Men rose from their tables to see what was going on.

"Captain!" his men cried, rushing over him in consternation.

"SERAS!" the barkeep yelled sternly, slamming a glass down.

"I'm taking five!" Seras cried, fleeing into the storage room and slamming the door behind her.

Alone in the dark and quiet room, Seras stood quivering against the door and listened to the commotion from the other side. After a long while, she finally slid to the ground and wrapped her arms around her knees, sobbing and shaking.

* * *

As you can tell, I'm borrowing some heavy Beauty and the Beast themes for this, but rest assured there are no beasts or castles.

* "Rip Van Winkle" is a Dutch name, (or was at least coined by the Dutch-descended character by Washington Irving), so I decided to make her Dutch instead of Deutsch.

** The Wild Geese mercenaries were actually real mercenary regiments with a very long and fascinating history, not the least of which was when they left Ireland en masse to serve France in the mid-17th century, and continued to serve (legally) till about the end of the 18th century. Since that's around the very loose time frame of Disney's Beauty and the Beast, I wanted to take small advantage of this.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: I can't promise this next chapter will be as smooth or charming as the last one, but I gave it my best effort. At least it continues the story.

Disclaimer: We are entering the "heart of darkness" known as the tavern, where men frequent to enjoy drinks and women. Be afraid.

* * *

It goes without saying that Seras got in a lot of trouble for assaulting a customer. Worse, she assaulted a man at arms during wartime; legally contracted to serve the monarch against foreign invadors. After the commotion died down and their captain's face was properly tended, the Wild Geese listened with glee as the tavern keeper chewed her out. His scolding was music to their ears, as well as his rejections of her attempted excuses.

"Seras, how many times do I have to tell you? I can't have you assaulting paying customers!"

"They're mercenaries! They don't _have_ any money!"

"These men are legally contracted to serve our country, under direct service to our king!"

"He ain't my king," Seras grumbled in her native English.

"I hope that wasn't sass, young lady!" the tavern keeper retorted.

It was all fun and games until the tavern keeper told the girl that she would repay the Geese by serving them whatever they asked for, whenever they asked for it, and she was not allowed to shirk her responsibility onto the other girls. The Geese were alarmed until they realized she was only obligated to serve them if they called for her. If they called for another girl? Sure, she could ignore them. However, if they flagged her down for drinks, she had to bring them drinks. If they demanded food, she had to bring them food. If they demanded service while she was attending another customer, she had to finish promptly with said customer and go right over to them as soon as possible. No exceptions.

"You **must** be joking!" Seras cried.

The Geese had smirked and sniggered at this.

"Looks like we're going to become a whole lot closer over the season, eh, cher?" the captain leered, with a bloody steak draped over half his face.

Seras grimaced, and then pleaded with her boss. "Please! I'll make a _terrible_ serving girl! Why don't you ask Giselle or Marionette to do to it? They _like_ men in uniform!"

"Seras, this isn't the first time you've had problems with customers," he replied sternly, "You've got to learn to start getting along instead of making a mess and leaving other girls to clean up."

"But I've taken customers they didn't like!" Seras cried.

She wanted to explain that exchanging customers that some girls found odious was part of the job.

"Yes, but you never had to take a customer they bashed in the face."

"THAT WAS ONE TIME!"

"It's one thing to deal with a customer who makes unwanted advances at the counter," he continued firmly. "It's another to have to take a customer because another girl left him bloody and bruised."

"It's the same thing!" Seras cried, "He tried to assault me!"

"What?!" Pip barked, and then groaned when he moved his face too fast with the steak still pressed against it.

"Seras, I doubt any man is going to try anything here, in the bar, where everyone can see him."

"That's right!" Pip piped up.

"But –!"

"You're delusional, temperamental, and easily prone to violence. To be honest, I don't know why I haven't fired you already."

"But I—!" she cried, her expression pained and her faced flushed. She'd worked _so hard_ since she got here!

"And if you refuse to serve any these mercenaries, I will refuse to give you any pay," he continued, with a voice and eyes that were iron.

"WHAT?!" Seras barked.

"Still don't understand? Well then, let me put this in words your simple English brain can understand," the tavern keeper sneered at Seras, "The price of every meal you don't serve them will come out of your pay. If you refuse to serve them outright, then I will refuse to pay you outright. And, considering what your wages are, and what your prospects are out there…" he smirked. "You won't be able to afford to refuse them for very long."

Seras' eyes went very wide, and her face very pale. She knew he would keep his word, and the thought of an empty purse and empty food sacks in the cold of winter chilled her to her very bone.

She glanced fearfully at the soldiers, who were all laughing and smirking from their tables.

"Looks like you've got to give us _what-eeeever_ we want, cher!" their captain leered.

Seras hid her fear behind a veneer of rage. "SHUT UP! No one asked you!" she shouted.

They laughed.

As it was late and the captain's broken nose still needed to be mended, and another girl had already served their drinks while the tavern keeper chewed her out, they turned in for the night. The captain's nose had been broken before, but it still hurt like hell. The dislocated cartilage needed to be manually realigned to the nose bridge, and held together with a nose band. The entire area in and around the injury was bloody and bruised, and remained swollen and bruised for a week, and remained tender for weeks after.

"You're lucky it was a clean, external break," their medic said, "If she hadn't hit you from an angle, the way her wrist shot out, she could have jammed the cartilage right into your skull."

Despite his many years of experience in battle, Pip had shuddered at this. "What the fuck was her problem, anyway?" he scoffed.

From his perspective, the attack came out of nowhere. He had just been flirting and she had lashed out at him for no reason.

"Who can tell with women?" the medic sighed.

Since the girl remained hostile toward them and offered no hint of any apology or explanation beyond implying that "they" deserved it for being loudmouth soldiers and ruffians, neither Pip nor the Wild Geese felt very inclined to forgive her, or cut her any slack for it. They still found her incredibly beautiful and sexy, but also as high-handed and conceited as the rest of the townsfolk found her. As soon as they came down for breakfast the following morning, they wasted no time in lording their newfound power over her, and laughing at her expense.

Seras, for her part, found their mockery to be a confirmation that soldiers were no-good louts. From her perspective, he had tried to grab her without consent and then lorded his newfound power over her when she got in trouble for trying to defend herself. Soldiers; think they own everything. No respect for anything or anyone.

As there were still no rules on how nice Seras actually had to be to the mercenaries, a battle of wills soon broke out between the two.

Seras avoided serving them for as long as possible the following day. She tended to every other customer for as long as she could get away with, hoping the barkeep hadn't really meant she had to serve them. Or that they would get tired of waiting or call another girl so she wouldn't have to deal with them. To the Geese's increasingly loud and rude demands for service, she would repeatedly tell them that she was getting to them or to wait a while.

"Girl! We're starving over here!"

"Hold on!"

"We've been waiting for five minutes!"

"You can wait a little longer."

"Come on! What does it take to get service around here?!"

"Be patient. I'm getting to you."

"Seras!" the tavern keeper's wife finally snapped, "Don't keep the Wild Geese waiting!"

"FINE!" Seras snapped, and finally made her way over to them. She sighed with loud annoyance, though privately it was to steady herself from quivering. "What can I get for you?" she glared.

"One round of beers, cher," they replied.

Seras nearly popped a vein. "YOU MADE ME COME ALL THE WAY OVER HERE TO ASK FOR ONE ROUND?!"

"We wanted to make sure you got the order right."

"WHA-?!" Seras cried, flabbergasted. "Y… wha? Que? Q—wha...nnn!"

The Geese soon discovered to their amusement that Seras often struggled to come up with words when she got flustered. She was English born and raised, and had clearly not been speaking the French tongue for very long. Even at the best of times, she made short and simple statements, like a child, and often had to think about what she was going to say before she said it. But when she got angry or embarrassed enough, her mental filter turned off and she flat out struggled to come up with a single word or phrase, and often alternated between English and French.

Presently, Seras finally shouted: "I'm a waitress! It's my job to get simple orders right!"

The Geese smirked, "Well, apparently you aren't a very good one, if word of mouth is anything to go by."

Seras nearly did pop a vein at that, and she slammed her empty tray down on the table so hard it clattered. "FINE! I'LL GET YOUR BLOODY DRINKS!"

"Much obliged, cher!" the captain called after her as she stormed away.

Seras nearly roared with rage when they complained about the beer quality and made her take it back to get a new round.

The Geese laughed and sniggered at this. Her screams of rage and frustration were music to their ears, and they played her like a harpsichord.

Seras soon discovered to her chagrin that the Geese could make her job difficult in every way imaginable. They could not only make her come over to their tables during the busiest hours to give simple orders that they could have called from across the room ("You couldn't just say 'Another round' while I was carrying five dinner trays over to the Lebecks?!"), but they could also make the longest, most complicated orders of food just to trip her up.

Most of the men had little money and simple tastes, and so in any other establishment they would just order the same two or three dishes for every meal. But for the sake of annoying Seras, all two dozen or so men would order different dishes with different specifics each; one would order porridge while another would order hotcakes while another wanted eggs and bacon.

And, of course, if several men ordered the same dish, each one had to have its own peculiarities. This one had to have the eggs scrambled, that one rare, that one extra fried. This one had to have extra bacon instead of sausage and that one had to have cream with his porridge instead of butter. And if Seras ever got their orders mixed up or messed up, which she often did, she had to pick it up off the table and serve the right dish to the right man (rather than swapping them amongst each other), or take it back to the kitchen to get the order right.

"Lafayette! I'm sorry, but these hotcakes are supposed to have butter on the side, not bacon!"

"Again?! Damn, girl, when will you ever get these mercenaries' meals right?"

"Hey, YOU go out there, take their orders, and tell me how easy it is!"

And that's not even getting into the double-entendres the Geese could make with their food orders. Seras had worked at the tavern since she moved to the town three years before, and she had heard many dirty phrases in that time, but _no one_ had ever been as bold, direct, or _creative_ in their double-meanings as the Geese. Seras learned to her profound chagrin just how creative dirty-minded mercenaries could be with food she never even thought of as having a sexual nature; or at least, not that way.

"Eggs, sunny side up," one of the Geese said, "And make sure the whites are nice and moist; I like to see a pert yoke poking out of round, succulent egg white."

Seras covered her breasts with her empty tray and glared, "Would you like salmonella with that?"

The captain, who was leaning back in his chair with his boots on the table and his hat tipped over his face, laughed heartily at this. "Touché, mon cher."

Seras was confused by his mirth, as this was the first time he didn't laugh directly _at_ her, and so she merely glared and walked away.

On top of finding double entendres for food that was not directly obvious to a naïve girl, Seras learned how aggressively they could drive home the entendres with well-knowns meaning. Cream, cheese and butter, three foods that her English heart adored, became odious to her. Seras couldn't even stand to eat bread with butter anymore, which used to be one of her meal staples. Just looking at it made her queasy, and if she tried to raise it to her lips, she would see their dirty faces leering at her, and she would be forced to lower it.

Of course, the Geese's perverted minds went further than mere double entendres, as they often told flat out dirty stories, jokes and songs. Again, Seras had heard many raunchy numbers in her years serving men in their personal cesspool of sin (called a "tavern," with drinks downstairs and women upstairs). However, as most small town men had only been with their wives, their neighbors' daughters and/or wives, and maybe the girls upstairs, their experiences were rather limited and unimaginative. The Wild Geese, on the other hand… had been to _**many**_ exotic and filthy places, and picked up _**many**_ exotic and filthy stories and songs, and learned quickly just how much they could torment the prudish Seras with them.

It was not at all uncommon to hear Seras screaming with rage or embarrassment, or outright fleeing the mercenaries' tables, or to see her rushing over to the tavern keeper to complain of things like, "SEXUAL HARRASSMENT!" and "THOSE **FILTHY **MERCENARIES ARE SINGING THIS DIRTY SONG!"

Usually it was the captain leading the charge. _"I don't know what I've been told, but Nordic **** is mighty cold!"_

"_Mighty cold!"_

"_Good for you!"_

"_Good for you!"_

"_Good for me!"_

"_Good for me!"_

"**FILTHY PIGS!"** she would screech.

Seras made it very clear she considered the Wild Geese mercenary unit a wretched hive of human depravity, and often responded accordingly.

People from upstairs could often hear the loud thump when Seras kicked the captain's chair out from underneath him.

"Keep your **disgusting** soldier hands away from me!"

"I told you! We are not soldiers! We are mercenaries!"

"Oh, that makes it so much better - touch me again and I will break you!"

"Oooh, which part? Sounds... intriguing..."

THUMP!

"OWW!"

It became something of a show for the regular patrons to see their resident prude fighting with the mercenaries. While Seras was obligated under pain of destitution to serve them whenever they called, she was free in _how_ she could serve them, and so got back at them whenever and however she could.

The Geese discovered to their chagrin that there was no solid rule on how promptly Seras _had_ to bring their orders to them, as long as it got there. As such, she often brought them substandard food and drinks, such as hot meals after they'd already turned cold or lukewarm, or beer from old, gritty crates rather than the freshly opened casks.

The Geese also had to pay for whatever meal they sent back, regardless of whether they touched it, so they soon discovered they _had_ to eat whatever Seras gave them. This sobered up most of the Geese, who by and large decided they'd rather have a pleasant meal than annoy the waitress. Others sometimes felt it was worth it to get a substandard meal just to annoy Seras, or else they ordered from another waitress so they could ridicule her without consequence; but this decreased over time since Seras actually knew their ordering habits best, and their funds were limited, and they would rather spend what little they had on something delicious rather than something cold or gritty.

The only one who never to let up was their captain; to no one's surprise. It soon became rather common to see Seras and Captain Bernadotte arguing loudly over one thing or another, while his men looked nervously up from their meals or drinks.

"No, no, no, no! Stop! Stop that, right now!"

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm NOT running a tab for you!" Seras barked, holding their meals in a tray on high.

"Come on, all bars run tabs!"

"But not all bar hands accept them. You will pay with actual money or you will starve."

"Come on, you heard the inn-keeper, you have to serve us!"

"I only have to serve you to make money," Seras said, "The price of every meal I don't serve comes out of my pay, but if you don't pay anything, then I don't lose anything. And I'm not going to serve you if I don't make any money from your order!"

"I told you, we ARE paying! It's just meant to round up the bill to be paid for a later date."

"Right. 'Pay for later.' But who knows when later will be? Oh, right, you run up an impossibly high tab over several weeks until suddenly, 'oh, we've been drafted into battle and must leave town! So sorry, you can charge it to our military record,' which doesn't exist because you're bloody mercenaries! I know your types," Seras concluded, giving their captain the stink eye.

"Aw, come on!" Pip snapped, "I've met _whores_ less stingy than you!"

"And that's why they're whores, rather than working honest jobs!" Seras retorted.

She paused, realizing that she'd unintentionally insulted the girls upstairs, who by and large had always been kind to her, and mentally resolved to apologize later.

"Of course it's an honest job. Honest service for honest pay. It's the oldest profession in the world!"

"Well, it's not a profession I'm ever taking up," Seras glared.

"Please, you think marriage is any different from prostitution, you little prude?"

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not planning on ever getting married for financial means," Seras smiled wryly, "As long as I can work with my hands, what do I need with my legs?" She then slammed an open palm on the table, while the other kept the tray high above her head, and leaned in to glare into their captain's eye. "So you can keep your lousy credit and come back when you have solid cash for a solid meal."

"Frigid bitch!"

"Philandering bum!"

"Stick-in-the-mud!"

"Loose lips!"

He leaned in for a kiss, but Seras jerked back and flicked him on the nose, causing him to groan in agony.

Despite getting in trouble for hitting a mercenary in the first place, the Geese were shocked to discover that Seras was never seriously punished for lashing out again. Despite how deeply she got punished for breaking the captain's nose the first time, Seras continued to lash out at the Geese every time one of them tried to touch her, even if it was just to tap her to get her attention. While she was often scolded or reprimanded, most punishments rolled off her back.

"Ugh… that barmaid of yours gave me a black eye," one of the Geese complained to the tavern keeper's wife one day.

"Seras!" she called from behind the counter, "Don't ye go around giving patrons black eyes!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

The Geese stared.

"That's it?"

"Well, what'd ye' expect, grabbing 'er ass like that?" the tavern keeper's wife retorted.

"I don't know, I thought..."

"Ye know the girl's got a mean right hook and snaps like a trap, yet ye keep poking 'er anyway. If ye don't want 'er to keep smacking you, then maybe ye should stop grabbing 'er, eh?"

At least her employers supported Seras in this one small way.

The Geese eventually accepted this little quirk about Seras, and accepted violence as payment for tapping her beautiful rear.

Captain Bernadotte often grew so hot and bothered by his arguments with that beautiful, stubborn, infuriating, opinionated young woman that he felt he could just grab and kiss her. It was no secret that he wanted her (though it was hardly surprising since most men in town wanted her) and that if he had his way they would burst into a back room to have hot, steaming, furious sex all over the walls, tables and floors. Some nights he contacted the women upstairs for this reason, particularly after a nasty row with Seras (though not very often, as he enjoyed their company for their own sake) and burn off some steam. Such rendezvous did little to satisfy him though, since he could smell and taste the difference between these hard-living women and that clean, untouched maiden downstairs.

Of these nights and fantasies, Seras was naturally ignorant (though she would have been thoroughly unsurprised if she had known), as she spent her evenings cleaning up after hours, burning off her rage by scrubbing the tavern tables, floors and dishes. Oh, what she wouldn't give to scrub that arrogant grin off that smug face! And give him a nice punch in the nose for good measure!

However, to each other's faces they maintained a detached and professional relationship; one that involved bickering and insult-exchanging that only a prudish barmaid and erotic mercenary can do.

"Get your boots off the table," she would often say as she walked by.

"You're already scrubbing down the tables anyway, cher," he would reply, leaning further back.

"It still creates more work for me."

"You should be used to that by now."

"I won't say it again: Get. Off."

"With you? Gladly."

To this, she would either smack him with a dirty rag or kick the chair out from under him.

This was how Seras' first several weeks went in serving the Geese. She openly reviled them, looked for every excuse not to serve them, and took every opportunity to undercut them. The feeling was mutual, of course, and they too found every opportunity to embarrass and enrage her. What was a pure little thing like her doing working in a bar like this, anyway? If she didn't like all the dirty talk and songs, why didn't she find some other job? "That's none of your business!" Seras would screech. Well then, if she was going to keep working here, she should just get used to men being men.

"You're not men, you're soldiers!" Seras would retort, "Everything was just fine before you got here, and will be even better once you leave!"

"Ouch," the captain joked, "You wound me, cher."

"Good!"

The only men in the tavern that Seras openly disliked more than the Geese, if that was even possible, were the Valentine Brothers.

A regular due to his love of sinning, Jan frequented the tavern almost as much as the Wild Geese after dark. Since Seras was not obligated to serve him as she was the Geese, she would openly glare and avoid him as much as possible. None of the girls seemed to like him very much, as he was loud and rude and vulgar and made degrading comments that even the Geese didn't find very funny. He was often accompanied by some of the most depraved souls in town, playing cards and drinking and whoring for hours, making a generally unpleasant ruckus in an otherwise pleasant tavern. Any girl unlucky enough to serve them found themselves ruffled in a rather unpleasant way.

"Yo, Seras! Come over here and let me rub your titties for good luck!"

"How about I not?" she would glare as she kept walking.

"Aw, you gonna be like that? Think you're too good for us, you puckered up little pussy?"

To this she would pause, visibly seethe before taking a deep breath, and keep walking.

_"Murder is a sin,"_ she would mumble under her breath, _"Murder is a sin... murder is a sin..."_

Luke Valentine was both better and worse. A town celebrity for his hunting prowess, he often came in the tavern to hang trophies from his latest hunts and accept praise from excited onlookers. He often recounted stories of his conquests with flourish. While virtually everyone in the tavern clamored on his every word (except the Geese, but he tended to treat them like they didn't exist), the only resident who didn't care was the one he wanted; Seras Victoria.

While Seras was outwardly much more polite and agreeable to Luke than toward Jan or the Geese, internally she seemed much less at ease with him than with any of the others. As he often tried to find reasons to talk to her and woo her, she often tried to find reasons to get away from him. It was subtle, but whenever he came in, she would unintentionally hover near other customers' tables, and position herself so there were chairs and tables between them.

Luke was always touching her. Whenever he would try to recount the glorious tales of his mighty conquests, he would sling an arm around Seras' shoulder or waist, to which she would look visibly uncomfortable and try to shake him off. To this, he would squeeze tighter and speak louder, as though trying to drown her will with his. Seras was visibly uninterested in his stories and conquests, but he never seemed to notice or understand. And since she worked in the tavern most days and he visited quite often, she could hardly get away from him, which seemed to wear at her patience.

"Mr. Valentine, I _really_ don't want to hear how you slaughtered a family of wolves in their own den," Seras said on day.

"Family? Oh Seras…" he dismissed condescendingly, "first of all, it's called a 'pack of wolves.' They don't have families. Secondly, they're evil creatures that devour livestock and innocent travelers. I've done the world a favor by being rid of them."

"And yet the mother tried to defend her young, which by your own volition…" Seras trailed off, her eyes sad and averted.

To the discerning eye, she looked greatly distressed, and covered her mouth with one hand while she tried to blink back tears.

Luke scoffed. "Seras, that naïve heart of yours is truly precious, but you need not waste your pity on bloodthirsty monsters."

"Indeed? Well, I wish I could dismiss mine as easily as you do yours…" she said, and walked away. "I have work to do."

"Where could you possibly be going? I still haven't finished explaining how I tracked the boar yet."

"Mr. Valentine, I have customers to serve and tables to clear."

Luke laughed. "Seras, if you wanted time off, you only need to say so!"

"That's not what I-"

"I'm very close with the tavern keeper. I know he won't mind you taking time off with your job to talk to me!"

"Mr. Valentine, I really-"

"Oi, cher!" Pip called, "We need another round!"

Seras seemed visibly relieved, and took her leave of Luke. "Sorry, I have to serve them when they call. Farewell."

A flash of rage lit up in his eyes as quick as lightning, then he agreed with his most charming smile that work must come first.

"Of course, I shall see you later tonight," he said, "Once your shift ends, I'll be able to tell you how I tracked the turtle dove."

"Oh joy," Seras said.

Seras never looked quite at ease as when she drew near the Wild Geese's table.

* * *

*Eskimos were unknown at this time, so I just changed the lyrics to "Nordic" since it's also a cold country.

What do you think? Sorry if I went overboard with the dirty imagery.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: All right, I'm sorry, but I revised this chapter after posting it. It's mostly the same, it's just now Luke's proposal takes place in the harvest festival instead of after it. I'm really sorry. They say "true art is never finished," so I guess mediocre art stands less of a chance. I think this will help set up the next chapter better too, which will also be an emotional roller-coaster, so it'll be for the best.

Disclaimer: Any poor French grammar uttered by Seras can be chalked up her not being a native speaker.

* * *

Late summer was giving way to autumn, and the most of the townsfolk believed it was time for the Wild Geese to take flight as well. For a while, rumors spread that the enemy lines would come in from the valley and the Geese would be deported to fight them. While most townsfolk dreaded the thought of the battlefield coming within horizon distance of their village, most were also desperately eager to see the Geese fly. No such luck, as the enemy decided to go by way of the mountain pass instead, so those troops already there or on the way would confront them while the mercenaries remained on standby. There were collective sighs and groans at the news.

"Mercenaries on reserve," Seras sighed as she set a hot bowl of stew on their table, "Why can't they send you to the front lines?"

"That eager to see us killed, girl?" one of the Geese asked.

"Just eager to get you out of here," Seras sighed.

"Feeling's mutual, ma cher," Pip said, leaning back in his chair with his boots on the table, his arms behind his neck, his hat covering most of his face, and a cigarette clenched between his teeth. "This place is too quaint; too quiet and boring."

Seras glared. Quiet and boring was exactly why she loved it. Of course, soldiers like these would find peace and prosperity to be dull. _They_ no doubt enjoyed the chaos, ruckus, pounding of war drums, blast of guns, explosion of canons, cries of the wounded and screams of the agonies of death throws. She tried not to think of the psychotic smirks of soldiers in the midst of the terrified screams of villagers under a blood red moon.

"If you dislike it so much, why don't you just leave?" Seras asked.

"Can't. Orders from above," he said.

Seras didn't quite believe or understand it. Surely, they would want disposable mercenaries like these louts on the front lines to save their honorable troops from horrid deaths, right?

"Sorry cher, nothing I can do. We'll just have to make due in the mean time."

"Lucky us," Seras glared and stormed away.

As soon as she was out of sight from the mercenaries though, her angry glare melted in into a look of sorrow and worry, and she scrunched up her face and placed the back of her hand to her forehead to keep from crying.

The days grew steadily shorter and colder. The grassy fields turned golden and the distant hills turned many shades of deep red, orange and yellow. The river sometimes sparkled in the afternoon sun; at least on the days when it shined. The farms and orchards grew ripe with fruits and crops, which most hands in town toiled to reap. Grains, apples and grapes were harvested by the sack and barrel. Ales, ciders and wines were fermented by the cask. Of course, much of this was done in secret and then smuggled into hiding to avoid paying the outrageous war and wine taxes that were sucking the village dry.

The Wild Geese even managed to make themselves useful to the townsfolk by helping out with the annual harvesting of crops. Being bored with small town life, having little to do while they waited for the marching orders due to come in at least several weeks time, and needing some spare coin anyway (as they had long spent what little they had when they arrived) most of them went out and helped the crowds of peasants reap and harvest. It was a huge to-do that nearly everyone in town (man, woman and even child alike) helped with. The Geese even managed to gain some approval by looking the other way when the tax collectors questioned their paltry sum.

"Looks like we're becoming more welcome in this town, eh, ma cher?" Captain Bernadotte said, holding up a shiny franc.

"At least you're making yourselves more useful," Seras sighed, took the coin and poured a drink without complaint. "For once, you're helping to make the ale you drink."

He laughed, "Ain't that the truth, ma cher?"

Seras sighed. Nothing she said ever bothered him. No matter what insults or reprimands, he just laughed them off. She turned away and attended other patrons.

"Sooo… tell me, ma cher," Captain Bernadotte said in his most sugary sweet tone, putting his boots on the table and leaning back in his chair, "What exactly are you doing to help with the harvest?"

Seras huffed. "I work here full time!"

It was true. There was rarely a moment one did not see Seras toiling in the tavern, morning, noon and nights. The reason she was so pale was because she almost never left the candlelight from inside the tavern.

"Ah, but you also have days off," he pointed out.

"Yes, on Sundays and market days!" Seras retorted.

She hardly counted them as days off since they were spent praying at mass and running errands in town.

"Still, I do see you in town," Pip said. There was never a time when she smiled so brightly, or when she looked so clean, her eyes clear, her demeanor classy, and her visage so beautiful. That was, until she saw him coming, and then she ran the other way. "Still, one thing that puzzles me is where you go after noon? They say you go to morning mass and early morning market, but are never seen after."

Seras frowned. "What business is that of yours?!"

"I'm just wondering if you really are helping anyone with their harvest?" he questioned.

Seras flushed angrily. Where did he get off asking these questions? What business was it of his?

"Fine, I am helping someone," Seras said, "But who that is is no business of yours, so stop asking!"

"All right, all right," he said.

Seras' irritation with the Wild Geese seemed to grow with their increased popularity. Before, they were hated and out-casted and treated with as much suspicion and annoyance as she felt. They sat alone in their end of the bar and were largely ignored by other patrons, who tended to huddle and gossip among each other. Now, they were treated with at least some amiability.

Seras often vented her frustrations in folk songs in her native language, usually ones that denounced soldiers and wars.

_"O cursed were the cruel wars_  
_ That ever they should rise_  
_ And out of merry England_  
_ Press many a lad likewise!_  
_ They press'd young Harry from me,_  
_ Likewise my brothers three,_  
_ And sent them to the cruel wars_  
_ In High Germany."_

These were usually sung while she was cleaning up after hours, and heard only by those mercenaries that came back late after a night of fun out in town, and Seras would shoo them upstairs with a mop or broom.

One of the few advantages to their increased popularity was the increase in Irish and Gaelic folk music in the tavern. Despite the xenophobia of the small town villagers, many were charmed by some of the tunes and lyrics. Seras would have been lying if she said she didn't also enjoy some of the melodies, but of course the Geese never sang of anything she liked to hear. They were mostly songs of glorious battles, and of course trysts with random women.

One night in particular, the whole tavern was alive with a bustling tune, with all the men laughing and clapping, as the wild geese all broke out in a Scottish song:

"A trooper lad came here last night,**  
**With riding he was weary,**  
**A trooper lad came here last night,**  
**When the moon shone bright and clearly.**  
**_Bonny lassie, I'll lie near you,__**  
**__Hey bonny lassie, I'll lie near you,__**  
**__I'll gar all your ribbons reel,__**  
**__Bonny lassie, ere I leave you._

"She went upstairs to make the bed,**  
**And she made it soft and easy.**  
**She's pulled her petticoats o'er her head,**  
**Crying, Soldier, are you ready ?**  
**_Bonny lassie, I'll lie near you,__**  
**__Hey bonny lassie, I'll lie near you,__**  
**__I'll gar all your ribbons reel,__**  
**__Bonny lassie, ere I leave you.__**  
**_**  
**He's taken off his big topcoat,**  
**Likewise his hat and feather.**  
**He's ta'en the broadsword from his side,**  
**And now he's down beside her.**  
**_Bonny lassie, I'll lie near you,__**  
**__Hey bonny lassie, I'll lie near you,__**  
**__I'll gar all your ribbons reel,__**  
**__Bonny lassie, ere I leave you.__**  
**_**  
**They had not been an hour in bed,**  
**An hour but and a quarter,**  
**When the drums came beating up the town,**  
**And every beat got shorter.**  
**_Bonny lassie, I must leave you,__**  
**__Now bonny lassie, I must leave you,__**  
**__If ever I come this road again__**  
**__I will come in and see you.__**  
**_**  
**She's ta'en her gown out o'er her arms,**  
**And followed him through Stirling.**  
**She's grown so full she could not bow,**  
**And he left her in Dunfermline.**  
**_Bonny lassie, I must leave you,__**  
**__Now bonny lassie, I must leave you,__**  
**__If ever I come this road again__**  
**__I will come in and see you.__**  
**_**  
**It's when will you come back again**  
**To be your bairnie's daddy ?**  
**When cockle shells grow silver bells**  
**It's when I'll come and wed ye.**  
**_Bonny lassie, I must leave you,__**  
**__Now bonny lassie, I must leave you,__**  
**__If ever I come this road again__**  
**__I will come in and see you."_

Seras looked truly disgusted through the entire song, and positively seethed and clenched her fists in rage through the last few verses.

Most of the men in the tavern laughed and clapped and sung along. The bimbettes giggled and fanned themselves coquettishly at the lyrics, as though the song was about them. Seras suspected that at least a few of the mercenaries directed part of the verses at her, for several of them seemed to leer, wink, and wiggle their brows suggestively at the verses. Their captain in particular always seemed to look at her during the verses: _"Bonny lassie, I'll lie near you"_ and _"If ever I come this way, I'll come in and see you," _and he would always wink (or, rather, blink) at her.

They sang many such songs like this. Seras would glare, or purse her lips, or look away every time. When the opportunity came to respond, she smirked contemptuously at the mercenaries and broke into a little ditty of her own invention.

"_Sorry lads, I have no time to play,_

_I work too hard, I work all day,_

_I have nerie a moment to spare for myself_

_I have nerie a moment to lie on my own_

_Why should I waste a moment to toss you a bone?_

_I have rent to pay, I have chores to do,_

_I have no time to spare for flirts like you!"_

She walked backwards and saluted as she sang, as though to bid them good day. However, since she wasn't watching where she was going, she bumped into a patron's chair. Said patron shot up, "Hey!" Seras yelped in surprise and dropped her tray full of beer, which fell to the floor in a loud clatter. The Wild Geese roared with laughter, while tavern keeper scolded her. Seras tensed up, eyes wide and jaw clenched, and bore the reprimands and ridicules without moving a muscle.

However, when their voices died down, in a surprising display of maturity (or perhaps character growth, as she never would have done so before), she gestured to the fallen tray as though it confirmed what she had been saying.

"_As you can see, I have no time to spare for thee!"_

Thus said, she walked away with her chin held high.

The Geese roared with laughter, though her ability to keep her calm in a humiliating situation later seemed to earn her a level of respect among the patrons. The Wild Geese in particular still chuckled and chortled over it, and they still liked to mock and tease her, but there was a softness to their regard, and almost a kind of underlying respect, they never showed for her.

She felt embarrassed and enraged by dirty songs; this was nothing new. She called the Geese disgusting and rejected their propositions; this was commonplace. She did something stupid or clumsy that earned her ridicule; this was to be expected. However, never had she spun a humiliating situation into a positive one. Where before she would have thrown a fit and stormed out, here she had kept her calm, showed a remarkable display of wit (for her), and walked away with her temper in check. The song was terrible and the lyrics were stupid, but she did it.

Seras, for her part, was a little confused by how so simple a change in her usual reactions to the Wild Geese's deptravity could change people's general reaction to her, but she let it roll off her shoulders and kept working just the same.

Luke Valentine in particular seemed impressed by Seras' budding maturity in handling adversity.

"I must say," he purred as he approached her one day, "The way you have learned to deal with those wild geese is quite astounding."

"Oh, it's not so bad," Seras said, scooting away from him, "They're like overgrown children. Once you've learned their peculiarities, they're much easier to handle."

"Hey!" one of the geese snapped from a distance.

"You must be very gifted with rearing children, then, to so deftly handle these ruffians."

Seras sighed. She'd walked right into that one.

"Children? Um… no. I-I don't think…"

"Oh, nonsense," Luke said, approaching her again. "The way you've handled these barbarians has made it clear beyond a doubt that you would make an excellent mother for a fine husband."

"I… no… I have too much to handle here without children too."

Seras continued to try to ignore him in favor of serving drinks and wiping down tables. When she came across the captain's legs on the table, she rapped them with the table cloth so she could scrub the dirt underneath.

"Oh, Seras, you misunderstand me," he chuckled. "Once you marry and have children of your own, there would be no need to toil here in the tavern, or tend to such wild men. You would be far too busy serving your husband, and raising children."

Seras grimaced. If ever there was a wrong sales pitch: that was it.

"As… tempting as it may be, I don't have time… I-I just..."

Without even bothering to explain, she fled to grab the next round of drinks.

Thinking her only playing coy, Luke was charmed by her shyness.

Watching all of this with a discerning eye, Pip lowered his hat over his brow.

The days leading up to the harvest festival were busy ones. Contrary to what she had told the captain, Seras was indeed helping to set up the harvest festival, as well as continuing her full-time job of working in the tavern. The Geese were helping to set up too, which made the work so much easier for the rest of the town, but they inevitably came into the tavern louder and hungrier than ever, which made more work for Seras.

"Hey, cher! How about another round?!"

"Just a minute!"

"These eggs are cold! Can't you put them back on the griddle?"

"I'll be right with you, Mr. Cleary-"

"I'm O'Connor!"

"Whatever! You're all geese to me!"

They laughed at this.

"Don't forget about the festivities, cher," the captain grinned, "There's an apple bobbing competition and I could use you as a partner."

"Maybe when the entire river dries up and there's no water expect in that bucket, I'll compete with you."

Their captain laughed. "Ah, progress!"

"No fair, captain! I want to play with her!"

Luke Valentine approached Seras one evening as she struggled with the Wild Geese. He was becoming more aggressive with his advances.

"Poor Seras," he said, "You must be _exhausted_ having your hands full tending these Wild Geese."

"I-it's not so bad," Seras said, then turned away. "Although sometimes I wish _someone_ would share the load!"

Her pointed criticism fell on deaf ears, as the bimbettes were busy swooning and staring doe-eyed at Luke. She sighed.

"Oh, Seras," Luke said, "It's a pity your work ethic is the best in town, and yet often comes to… fruitless gains."

Seras straightened up and wiped her hands on her apron. "I have limited resources, sir, but I do the best I can."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Perhaps you can take it up with Monsieur and Madam Bouvier," Seras said, swinging around behind a table, "And ask them to give me more reasonable so I can catch my breath."

Luke smirked, "You really spend all of your time in this tavern, don't you?"

Seras smiled wryly. "You're just noticing that now?"

Luke continued to advance on her, smiling seductively. "I understand you rent a room upstairs, and work full time down here under the Bouviers. You live under their establishment, as well as work under their establishment like a maiden working under her parents, and tend to their patrons like an older sister tending younger children."

"What do you mean?"

"I suppose one could say that this tavern acts as your home, and the Bouviers as surrogate parents."

Seras frowned. She had never heard one put it like that before, but frowned at the word 'parents.' "In a manner of speaking…"

"You are like a maiden working under her parents' house," Luke continued, more confident now that he believed he had shot through the heart of the matter, "But you have too many wild men to work for, and too many chores to attend for too many people; more so than any girl at home."

"I-I suppose…"

"You see," he continued, advancing toward her in a very suggestive manner, with a very cloying smile on his lips. "You need be able to work in a private household, to serve only one man, and to look after only small children. After the scores of these filthy, vulgar, barbaric men, it would be easy by comparison… And I need a young lady with spirit."

Seras' eyes lit up into a smile. "You're hiring servants?!"

Luke frowned. He did not find this display of ignorance as endearing as usual.

"No, what I desire is…"

A loud shatter caught their attention, and their eyes darted to the mercenaries' table. Someone had knocked over an entire tray of pitchers of ale mugs to the ground.

"Oy, cher!" Pip called, "We need help over here."

Seras nearly sighed with relief (or did she gasp in consternation?) and ran over to the table before Luke could stop her. She could move very quickly and smoothly when she wanted. Luke glared after her with the same expression as one who just saw a rabbit slip from his trap.

"What on earth have you been doing?!" Seras cried.

"Nothing! We just got a little carried away with drink and song!"

"I'll say! This is coming out of your pockets, I hope you know!"

There were collective groans.

"Hey, I'm not taking this out of my pay! I can barely afford rent as it is!"

Luke was finally forced to back off, but his advances were far from over. In fact, ever since Luke had made the comparison of the tavern keeper and his wife being like parents to Seras, they began going out of their way to recommend Luke to her when he wasn't around. Madam Bouvier in particular began treating Seras in a more domineering fashion, asking her questions concerning her future, and insisting that she do more to try to look more presentable to men. The attempts were regrettable.

"Mademoiselle Victoire, what are you to wear for the harvest festival?"

Seras was confused by the question. "Well, I…"

"Oh, look at your thick waist! It's like a cow's! You should tighten your laces for the harvest festival!"

"Again?!" Seras cried.

Don't imagine corsets are horrible torture devices meant to bring pain to women. A well-tailored corset can be quite snug and comfortable to its wearer. As this was before the brassier, it was designed to be a support garment to help posture and breast placement. As Seras had very large breasts and a small back, both of which were affected by gravity, corsets provided the much-needed structural support that her upper body needed. She was also a girl of structure and rules, and the solid feel of her many layers of garments – her knickers and chemise, covered by her petticoats and corset, covered by her bodice and thick skirts and apron, gave Seras a feeling of structure and stability that she desperately needed in her life. Quite often, she would smooth her hands over her stomach to enjoy the feel of clothes so tight and structured.

However, Seras was also a very practical girl that preferred practical fashions. Her job involved a lot of grueling tasks that involved bending down, lifting up, and placing down many heavy objects. Tighter corsets meant more constricted lungs and more strained back muscles. It made her job harder, but not impossible, and she never complained. As a general rule though, peasant fashions were designed for more practicality than the nobles and bourgeoisie, since they had so much more physically taxing work. So, for the life of her, Seras couldn't understand why she had to keep tightening her bust when all it did was make her job harder.

"Mademoiselle Victoire!" she would often say, "You have such a pretty face, and such an alluring figure, yet you won't put any of it to good use!"

"Of course I put it to good use," Seras would say, "I serve men drinks and meals with smiles, I scrub and clean, and I stock up the storage room..."

Despite this, ever since she had started working for them three years before, Madam Bouvier had been wheedling Seras' corset strings steadily tighter and tighter. So, not too long before the harvest festival, Madam Bouvier pulled Seras away for her job to tighten them further.

From the storage room, one could hear the abrupt sound of laces tightening, followed by Seras gasping.

"Breathe in!" she ordered.

"I can't anymore! You're hurting!"

Seras groaned as the tavern-keeper's wife adjusted the laces.

"'Il faut souffrir pour être belle,'" she said. "One must suffer to be beautiful,' so say we French."

"You French are crazy," Seras grumbled, clutching her waist painfully.

When she saw Pip staring at her, she glared as though to say 'You heard me.'

Then she realized he was looking at her. Right through the open door to the storage room, where she stood with her bodice and sleeves removed. Her torso was covered in nothing but her chemise (thin white underdress) and corset. It was the equivalent of a modern man seeing a young woman in her bra. When she realized this, she flipped her lid.

The entire tavern echoed with her scream and the slam of the door.

Every patron in the tavern could then hear her screech: "YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!"

"Of course!" Madam Bouvier laughed, "If you're not going to use that pretty figure to bring in more money upstairs, the least you can do is use it to bring in more coin down here!"

"MADAM BOUVIER!" Seras screeched, and she ground her teeth in frustration.

Seras was beat red when she approached Captain Bernadotte's table soon after. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't you say a word!" she growled.

Bernadotte laughed, "Wouldn't dream of it, ma cher!"

"I mean it! And I'm not your cher!" she snapped, but couldn't meet his eye.

"Okay, okay, understood," he grinned.

Seras leaned over to give him the stink eye, and then reluctantly took their orders.

However, as she was walking away, he called out, "I don't see why you want to hide them, cher. You have such lovely breasts!"

Seras hissed like a cat.

A few days later, Wild Geese came down to breakfast much later than usual. They were all sleepy and highly hung over from a long night of fun. Since Seras had not been allowed to go to bed until after they had been done, and she had to clean up afterwards, and she was kept awake by those still sober enough to have fun with the women across the hall (as opposed to merely passing out drunk), her patience was even thinner with them than usual. She brought their hangover remedies like she was supposed to, but snarked and sassed them more than usual.

"Careful with that, cher," the captain winced when she clattered the tray against a pitcher on the table.

Seras responded by banging a spoon against a tankard, so the metal ringing vibrated through the room.

The Geese all groaned in agony.

"You know," Seras said, "your heads wouldn't hurt now if you didn't drink so long last night."

Their captain groaned, "Not now, cher, it's too early."

"It's two hours after noon," Seras corrected.

The geese looked around as though in wonder at how late it had gotten.

"Oh merde," Pip said, "I promised to help the Marchals with their cabbages."

Seras smiled contemptuously, "Fuis le plaisir qui amène repentir," she said, "Flee pleasure that brings repentance.'"

In other words, they shouldn't have stayed up drinking so much knowing it would cause them problems or regrets later.

"Well, aren't you just a little fountain of proverbs?" Pip snarled.

"It helps me get by," Seras smirked, "And I don't get headaches."

"Ack!" one of the Geese cried, "You sassy little showoff!"

Seras giggled.

It was one of the few times anyone heard her do it.

The harvest festival finally arrived with much joy and celebrations. It was a day when almost everyone could cast aside their work and do nothing but eat, drink, dance the day away. It was an affair young children and adults alike looked forward to long before, and looked back fondly on months after. It was a day where men and women, young and old could all celebrate and be merry. With music, decorations, feasting, and wine flowing endlessly, it truly was a splendid affair. When their gracious host, Luke Valentine, announced beforehand that he would also marry a lass of his choosing, there was even more excitement.

The Wild Geese mingled with happy townsfolk as the festival got underway, now largely accepted as part of the scenery rather than a blight upon it. They smiled and sang and danced along with everyone, and many found and grabbed girls they liked, but of course many congregated to where the drinks were served. Ales and wines flowed like waterfalls, but one family with an apple orchard had made cider. And who should be helping them pass out ciders, but Seras Victoria?

Her bright, cheerful, sunny smile dropped as soon as she noticed several of the Geese approaching. "Oh no, not you louts again."

"A round of ciders, cher," Captain Bernadotte smirked, leaning casually against the booth.

"Since when do you drink ciders?" she frowned.

"Since we saw how tasty it looked, naturally," he smirked.

"Can't I get away from you for one day? Isn't there anyone else you can bother?"

However, just at that moment, Jan Valentine approached her booth.

"What up, Victory Bell?" he leered, "Your breasts get bigger every time I see them."

"... I'll be right with you," she said to the Geese.

"Great! We'll be over at those tables yonder."

"Of course you will!" Seras snapped.

In the midst of the festivities, Luke Valentine stepped forward to give an announcement, wearing his best riding apparel.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming out to my family's annual harvest festival," he announced. As one of the richest families in town, they traditionally hosted the festivities, "Now is the time that we finally get to reap the fruits of our labors after watching them ripen over the summer. In the same way, this festival shall allow me to reap the depths of my affection for a maiden whom I have watched ripen over the summer."

The crowd gasped with delight at the analogy, and cheered. Most girls were hopeful that it would be them, and swooned and cooed in their prettiest dresses.

Seras smiled sardonically from over where she was, and leaned over to serve cider to the Geese.

"Now," Luke continued, "I shall take this moment to announce the bride of my choice…"

"Who do you think the lucky girl's going to be?" one of the Geese asked Seras.

"I don't know, but whoever she is, I'm sure she won't mind being treated like a…"

"Oh, Seras Victoria, bring me some wine, why don't you?" Luke called out to her.

Seras bristled angrily and gestured wildly to the Geese, as though to say she was busy serving _them_! However, Luke continued to address the crowd as before. Duty won over desire though, and she visibly rolled her eyes and stormed over to the caskets.

Pip watched her go with a discerning eye, and inhaled his cigarette thoughtfully.

It didn't escape his notice that the Geese were the last men in town Seras wanted anything to do with until the Valentine Brothers entered the picture. Whenever Jan burst into the tavern, being loud and obnoxious, Seras subconsciously hovered near the Geese' tables till he left, where any other time she would avoid their area at all costs. Whenever Luke tried to sling an arm around her shoulder and brag about all his trophies, Seras would give some excuse about how she had to serve the Geese, where any other time she would leap at _any _opportunity to avoid them. (In fact, one time she volunteered to fish a dead rodent out the drain pipe to avoid serving them dinner. Pip wasn't flattered that she would rather plunge her whole arm down a clogged drain pipe on the roof to pull out a dead rat by its tail, but it was damned impressive.) In fact, Seras never even came near the Valentine Brothers if she could get away with it.

Presently, Seras approached Luke carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and a few glasses for whoever might also want one, as she did indeed stop to give one to a person.

When she finally reached Luke, he concluded his speech by placing an arm around her waist and exclaiming, "Now, I would like for you all to welcome my bride, Seras Victoria!"

"What?!" Seras cried.

For the second time since they met her, her grip on the tray slackened so that it slipped out of her hands.

The townsfolk cheered. Seras looked around with unbridled dread and terror. Her eyes scanned the crowd for any sort of escape. Her eyes also seemed glazed with denial, as though the cheering faces were a nightmare she hoped to wake up from. When she didn't wake, however, Seras meekly looked up at Luke. He placed her hands in his and bent down to kiss her. She averted her lips at the last second, so that he kissed her upper cheek instead. Fortunately, he seemed unbothered by the discrepancy. He then placed a hand on the small of her back (something Seras tried to flinch away from) and used the other to address the town grandly.

"From the first moment I laid eyes on Seras, I knew her to be a girl worth pursuing…"

Seras tried to gently brush his hand off her, but he held on tighter. She turned pale with dread, and kept earnestly trying to get his attention with soft whispers and gentle taps. However, he ignored her and continued, "While I understand she does not have the highest reputation within this village, I have observed many girls in my pursuit of a wife, and I can assure you all that I have not encountered a single lady in this town of parallel beauty or grace…"

"Mr. Valentine, I beg of you, could we please discuss this in private?" Seras cried in her native English.

"What is there to discuss?" Luke Valentine said so that everyone could understand, "The whole town now knows of our engagement."

"You are too hasty, sir!" Seras cried in English, "You forget, I have given no answer!"

"Yes, I understand you are quite flattered by my generous proposal," Luke agreed.

"That's not what I meant!"

"Yes, I understand it is quite a shock to discover that you are the lucky girl I have deemed my bride. Rest assured; you have no reason to feel any discomfort in the slightest. The town is quite at ease with this arrangement, for everyone has known that it has been long in coming. I'm sure my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I singled you out as the mother of my future children…"

"Mr. Valentine!" Seras cried.

"Hush now, ma bichette," murmured, and bopped her on the nose.

Seras scoffed and shook her head in irritation, much like a kitten that just had its nose blown on. While still pale with dread, she also looked rather annoyed and ready to tell him what's what.

The Geese sniggered and nudged each other. By now, they recognized this as the expression Seras made when she was still trying to be polite but losing patience fast, and when she was winding up to retaliate if further provoked. "Ah man, that pansy won't know what hit 'im!" one of the Geese whispered to another, and they all reached for their drinks, sat back, and waited eagerly for what they knew was about to be a great show.

Unfortunately, neither Luke Valentine nor the other townsfolk seemed to notice, and Seras finally had to cut him off.

"Mr. Valentine!" she cried earnestly, "I am… indeed 'flattered' by your proposal, but I'm afraid I must decline it."

Luke Valentine was silent for a moment, but then smiled and brushed it off. "I understand you feel the need to give one perfunctory appearance at dismissal in order not to seem too eager, but there really is no need to put on such a show now…"

"Mr. Valentine, I am perfectly serious!" Seras cried indignantly.

The Geese snickered and nudged each other.

Luke Valentine was silent for a moment, and then continued on as before. "I understand young ladies tend to not want to seem too eager when accepting a man they secretly wish to marry…"

"Mr. Valentine!" she snapped.

"And, considering your financial situation, it is perfectly understandable that you should try to seem even more modest so as not to appear too eager to obtain a considerable financial and social advancement; but rest assured, no one shall think less of you. My family's wealth, my standing in this town and my own… personal merits…" he paused to smile and pose in a very self-flattering way, "are all understandably desirable."

"Mr. Valentine…" she groaned.

"You have already turned down several young men in town, so everyone knows of your modesty and practicality. Besides, while you are quite a remarkable beauty, after me there is little chance that another offer of marriage shall be made to you…"

Seras glared. "Mr. Valentine!"

"So I must conclude that you wish to increase my desire through suspense," he concluded with a knowing smirk, and covered her hands with his. She tried to pull away, but he held on tighter and once again bopped her nose with a single finger, "According to the usual practice of delicate females."

"Mr. Valentine!" Seras shouted, and wrenched her hand away from his. All of her patience was gone, as well as any desire to spare his feelings. The whole town was silent for a moment. "Regardless of what you may think of my sex, I am not the sort of 'female' to toy with the feelings of a respectable man! I'm not saying this to be coy, and I'm not saying this to be luring. Please sir, understand me when I say: I cannot accept you!"

And with that, she whipped around and fled outright.

The town burst into an uproar. Most of the elder men and married women gasped in shock and scandal. Most of the young ladies laughed and cried with relief that their desired husband remained a bachelor. The Wild Geese roared with laughter. Seras started to run toward them until she caught their captain's eye, and then she swerved toward the river.

Luke Valentine stared after her in shock and denial. His expression seemed to scream, "… She said no?!"

Not too far behind him, the tavern keep's wife swelled with indignation.

"Headstrong, foolish child…" she seethed. "Seras Victoria! You come back here and apologize to Mr. Valentine now!"

But Seras ran even faster, sprinting toward the river as a large flock of actual wild geese ran along the ground and parted away from her.

"Don't worry, Mr. Valentine!" the tavern keep's wife called as she ran after Seras, "We'll have this sorted out immediately! Seras…? SERAS!"

She finally caught up with Seras down by the river, where she stood watching the wild geese skid across the water as their wings took flight. Her arms were crossed, and her expression was dark. She stood rigid as a stone.

"Seras Victoria, you have thoroughly humiliated Mr. Valentine!" the tavern keeper's wife scolded, when she finally caught up to her.

"He should have talked to me about it first," Seras said without moving.

"You turned him down in front of the entire town!"

"I tried to avoid it, but he wouldn't listen."

"He expected you to say yes!"

"He thought wrong!"

Her eyes were hard as stone, and her arms firmly crossed. Seras looked like a petulant child, yet also as unmoving as the statue of a saint.

"You must go back and tell him you've changed your mind!"

"No."

"He's from a good family!"

"I don't care."

"You can share his house! His name! His land!"

"I don't want any of it."

"He can care for you, provide for you in the winter months! And save you from destitution."

"I don't need him to get by!" Seras shouted passionately, her arms finally uncrossing and her face hot with passion.

"You've turned down every other young man in town! At this rate, there'll be no one left for you to marry!"

"Good!"

By now, the tavern keeper's face was flushed with anger, and she gestured wildly behind her. "Go back over there, and **say** you've changed your mind!"

**"You cannot make me!"** Seras shouted.

The tavern keeper's wife scoffed, and threw up her hands in frustration.

"You're going to regret this one day," she said, "When you're an old spinster struggling to make ends meet, you'll wish you had a good man like Mr. Valentine to look after you!"

"I've struggled plenty in my life," Seras said, her face flushed, "worse than you've ever known. Poverty doesn't scare me. Marriage to a man like that does."

The tavern keeper's wife threw up her hands again.

Since returning was not an option after that performance, Seras decided to wait for things to cool off. She sat leaning against the tree for most of the afternoon, watching the late afternoon sun sparkle on the water, and the little shadows of the leaves dance along the bank. She watched the wild geese kick up from the water, as well as the swans and ducks and other migrating birds. She admired the rich tapestries of red and orange and golden leaves from the autumn trees, and bit into sweet apples that had fallen on the ground. (She was currently sitting on the edge of an apple orchard near the river bank.) She enjoyed the peace and quiet, with nothing but the babble of the water, the rustle of the light breeze against the trees, and the singing birds.

The sun hung low and the wind blew cold when she finally resolved to return to town, tightening her corset laces as she went.

Tongues were still wagging once she stole back into the tavern, but she avoided seeing or talking to anyone and stole back into her room for the night.

When Seras returned to work in the tavern the following day, tongues were wagging, rumors were flying, and stories were exchanging. Everyone had a comment or a criticism, and most of it was rather disheartening. The Wild Geese were still laughing their asses off about the affair, recounting stories, and exchanging details the others had missed. They had enjoyed most of the harvest festival to the fullest, so much so that most didn't wake till almost the evening, but seeing the pansy get his ego handed to him was the highlight of the event. When they saw Seras approaching, they seemed to welcome her like a hero.

"Hey!" they cheered.

"There's the woman of the hour!"

"How're you feeling, cher?"

"I'll just be glad once this all blows over," she sighed, but smiled, and grabbed a pitcher.

"That could take a while. You just turned down the town hero in front of everyone!"

"I know," Seras groaned. "I must admit I thought he might propose eventually, but I didn't think he would do so in front of the town."

A few of the Geese snorted.

"Looks like you under-estimated his ego, cher."

"Tell me about it," she sighed.

Normally spirited and argumentative, Seras seemed a little weary from the day's events.

"I suppose you think I should have said yes?" Seras asked, and refilled a Goose's mug without even needing to be asked.

"Me? Naw, the guy's a prat!"

"The look on his face when you ran off was priceless!"

Seras smiled. "Well, I'm glad at least you got a laugh out of this," she said, and refilled several glasses calmly. Normally they had to whine, beg and wheedle to get her to bring them any sort of refill, along with proof that they could pay for it, so having her do so without even needing to be asked was a rare treat.

Only their captain, Pip Bernadotte, remained somewhat subdued through the whole ordeal. Normally spirited and vivacious, he noticed that her refusal and falling out with the town had taken some wind out of Seras' sails. She still smiled and bustled around as cheerfully as she could, but it was not as well as before.

Before he could comment, however, Luke Valentine burst into the tavern.

"Where is she?!" he demanded.

Seras gasped and darted into the back room, slamming the door behind her.

A few of the Geese took a double-take to make sure they saw what they thought they saw. That was fast!

Luke Valentine was positively furious. No one said no to him, especially not in public, and especially right in his own domain. First he demanded that Seras come out and explain why she had said no to him, then he demanded the tavern keepers bring her out when she would not answer. When Madam Bouvier failed to bring Seras back out, he snarled at her inability to control her maid, and then tried to confront Seras himself. However, their captain stood up suddenly and blocked his entrance to door.

The difference between them was immediate. Luke was pale, well-groomed, and impeccably dressed. Pip was tanned, muscled, and scruffy from hard work out in the fields; both battle and farms. While Luke was very thin and effeminate from his leisurely lifestyle (being able to pass most of the work off to his brother and farm-hands), Pip was very coarse and masculine from years of toil. Luke was also flushed with very unrefined rage, while Pip put on an air of casual nonchalance.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," Pip said carelessly, but with an underlying threat in his tone.

"Get out of my way, you filthy barbarian!" Luke snarled.

"Le chou probably is probably busy collecting food orders," Pip continued indifferently, "It would make her job very difficult to be disturbed."

"'Chou?' Since when do you call her chou?" Luke exclaimed. "And since when do you care what difficulty she faces in her job, you glutinous cur?"

However, Pip answered calmly. "Probably since le chou made it clear she would rather continue to serve us than you," he smirked.

They looked each other in the eye for a moment. Despite having only one, Pip's steady confidence broke Luke's will.

When it became apparent the mercenary would not step out of the way, Luke suddenly grabbed his scarf and pulled him close.

"I'll have that 'chou' for my wife!" he snarled, "Make no mistake about that!" and he shoved Pip back and stormed away.

Pip watched him go for a second, and then grinned to his men. "Touchy!"

They all snorted and laughed.

Luke stalked away with a dark expression, the roar of the mercenaries' laughter echoing behind him.

After the commotion died down, Seras poked her head out from the back room. If she knew the captain had stood up for her, she gave no indication.

"Is he gone?" she asked.

"Oui, he's gone, cher," the captain said.

"We protected your maiden virtue!" one of the Geese piped up cheerfully.

"Which is really weird, because we're usually the ones spoiling it," said another.

Seras looked around just to make sure, sighed with relief. Then, she emerged briskly from the doorway, holding a large tray with a large pitcher and several mugs of ale.

"Can you imagine?!" she exclaimed indignantly to the Geese. "He_ ordered_ me to marry him!" She walked briskly and slid drinks onto tables absently as she went. She looked positively livid. "Me? Like I'm some disobedient _child_..."

"Well, you are pretty childish..." one of the Geese said.

"But to be his wife? To be married like that? Me? The wife of that _pompous_, arrogant, painted peacock…!"

"Yeah, he is kind of a pansy."

"Probably not a good idea to marry someone even more feminine than you."

One of the Geese snickered. "Can you imagine what it would be like in bed?"

Seras started to quiver. Even at the best of times, sex and marriage were topics she was extremely uncomfortable with. She was even less comfortable discussing them with the Wild Geese, whom she knew would escalate and degrade the topic in the worst way. However, she also needed to vent to someone and did not realize at the time that they were the best people in her life to do so. She would not realize so for a long time yet. To hide her current discomfort, she placed a hand upon her chest and batted her eyes in mock coquetry.

"Madam Valentine!" she exclaimed to the Geese as she passed them their drinks. "Can't you just see it?!"

One cried, "Oh yeah!"

Another wolf-whistled.

"Madam Valentine!" she exclaimed again, straightened out a clean table rag and draped it over her head like a married woman's shawl. "Sa 'petit femme,'" she said contemptuously.

"Oh yeah, you'll be lying on your back the whole…"

Just then, her foot popped and upturned the table so suddenly that several mugs of ale spilled over. The Geese sitting there yelped and shot up. Seras stood still as a stone.

"Çà non! Jamais!" she said firmly, and cast the rag aside. She twirled around, grabbed the knot in their captain's neck scarf, pulled it so that his face was inches from hers and exclaimed: "Je vous le promets!" She then pushed him back and darted between the Geese's tables. "I'd much rather work here for the rest of my life!"

Many of the Geese had choice words to say about this declaration.

"Aw, come on! We're not that bad!"

"Without a pansy like that, you can be around real men."

"Just as long as I can say good night to you and retire to a room of my own, with my own pay and thoughts and time to myself, I can life with that," but she was now more quiet and thoughtful. "I just want a simple life here in the countryside, and enjoy the quiet rural life the wars denied me long ago…"

She then went to light a few lamps that had gone out. While the Geese loudly talked about the peculiars of Seras' potential marital life, Pip approached her. For the first time since the moment he saw her, he was strangely quiet. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. Seras didn't notice him, as her back was turned and her mind was far away.

"And for once, it might be grand…" she whispered in her native language, "To have someone understand…" she whispered gently as she lit a match, and felt its warmth on her fingers. "What I want is not at all what they have planned…" and she extended her hand to light a few candles.

Pip opened his mouth to speak, until the postman came in.

"Post for Mademoiselle Victoire."

"Rip Van!" Seras gasped, and darted to greet him.

* * *

This chapter was very, very difficult to write. I must have rewritten the entire thing four times, and I'm still not satisfied with it.

A couple of notes on language used.

"Ma cher" roughly means "my dear." Technically "ma cheri" would be more correct for a girl, but in this case he's making fun of her for being tomboyish.

"Ma chou" literally translates to "my cabbage," but figuratively means more like "my darling." From what I've gathered, "chou" is more familiar and affectionate than just "cher."

"Sa 'petit femme'" literally means "His 'little wife.'" I used Google Translator, so apologies if this is incorrect.

"Çà non! Jamais!" I think literally means "Here no! Never!" Roughly means "Not now! Not ever!"

"Je vous le promets!" Literally "I promise you."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: For those who might not have seen it, I changed the last chapter so that Luke proposed to Seras at the harvest festival instead of before it, then tried to confront her afterwards, where Pip chased him off. I should have written it that way from the beginning, so I apologize. Also, I made this one extra long to make up for making you wait so long. So sorry.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Beauty and the Beast, though I have and will base some scenes and dialogue from them. My intention is not to copy or plagiarize, but to share some of my daydreams with you. I also don't own or make money off "Shule Agra" or "One Tin Soldier," but I am borrowing the lyrics for this fic because I think it can help enhance it. Please check out and even buy the actual anime, movie, and songs at your leisure.

* * *

Seras made herself scarce for the next few days, which was a good idea since Luke complained of her to anyone that would listen. For a while he was too humiliated to show his face in town, but then his brother tried to cheer him up by bringing him out to their favorite place, where they each had plenty of pals and connections. Not only did Jan have plenty of cohorts that would never breathe a bad word about Luke (partly on his bidding), but plenty of average, honest men in town genuinely admired him and tried to cheer him up when they could.

Seras wisely stayed away from the tavern at such times, though no one knew exactly where she went. Rumor had it she was visiting the van Winkle farm since she was not in her room and she had no other friends in town. The van Winkles were pariahs not just because of they were foreign, but because they were reclusive (both physically and socially) and eccentric. Old Man Winkle was known to be a crazy tinker that tried to be an inventor with his wares, and his daughter Rip Van Winkle was known to be... eccentric at best. Most of Seras' reputation of being crazy really came from her association with the van Winkles, for who in their right mind associates with foreign pariahs? Although, rumor had it the van Winkles were moving away befor the start of winter and Seras was helping them move.

For Pip, the rumors seemed confirmed when he sat up from rooting up turnips on a neighboring farm, rubbing his sweaty and sore neck, only to see Seras in the distance embracing and waving good bye to a young woman in a black dress. The girl then hopped onto the back of a full cart pulled by a farm horse, which was led by an old man with white hair, and she waved cheerfully behind.

"Doe-doei, lieverd!"* the girl called cheerfully, "Take care while we are gone!"

Seras was visibly more melancholic after this farewell, and asking around confirmed that her only friend had left town.

Of course, on top of losing her best friend, Seras' troubles over refusing Luke were still far from over.

The tavern keeper's wife often complained bitterly of Seras' foolishness in refusing him.

"She's making a grave mistake," the tavern keeper's wife complained.

"Of course she is," Monsieur Bouvier replied, "but she's young, pretty, and empty-headed, as all young women are…"

Seras made a face form over where she was.

"… And so it's her mistake to make. She'll realize her folly and come around eventually."

"But what if it's not in time? She's humiliated Mr. Valentine!"

"He's a stalwart lad, and the most beloved and popular in town. He'll come around eventually."

"But in front of the entire town! In front of people who admire him…"

"They admired him before she turned him down, and they shall continue to do so now. His losses in love truly are greater than most of their conquests. One refusal from one simple, loony englais lass isn't going to lower their opinions of him…"

Oh, how he had to drag Seras' character through the mud to make her refusal seem like nothing to Mr. Valentine.

In fact, most of the town was divided on that front. There were those who naturally believed that any maiden Luke deigned from on high to grace with his favor should be immensely flattered by his generous display of attention on their worthless persons, and swoon and coo and fawn over him for such a high honor. Seras was, at the very least, highly conceited and ungrateful not fall right into his lap and shower him with praise for choosing her.

Then there were those who simply believed she was not worthy of him to begin with, so he should move onto a more suitable maiden. Of course, everyone knew Seras was a foreigner, a loony, and a "public woman" working in a "public establishment" (instead of staying in a private home under the care of a parent like a good girl). She had no financial incentive to marry, no real family or social circle to speak of (apart from the Van Winkle pariahs), and likely without any real connection to God as she was English, and everyone knew the English were Protestants. (Although she attended mass and observed every holy day, most doubted the sincerity of her outward piety.) There were those who thought he should forget her and find a more suitable girl; a local girl, a good girl, a docile little lamb. In fact, several men tried to cheer Luke up by offering their daughter or sister instead.

Of course, these were all lost on Luke's ears, as he had pinned Seras as the object of his advances, and would stop at nothing to have her.

She tried to avoid the Valentine Brothers whenever possible. Of course, having no tact or indoor voice anyway, Jan would yell insults and obscenities across the room at her. "Well, if it isn't the little hussy herself? What's the matter? My brother ain't good enough for you?"

Seras tried to ignore him, of course, but he kept pushing until he finally found a topic that made her react.

"So, I hear your little Dutch oven finally left town," he called one afternoon.

"Her name is Rip Van Winkle," Seras retorted, "And yes, she finally left."

"Well, I say good riddance to bad rubbish," Jan exclaimed, leaning back in his chair with his boots on the table and his hands behind his neck, "This is France, not fucking Dutchland. We should keep France only for the French."

"And yet here you are, _Herr_ Valentine," Seras said angrily.

The truth was Seras had no idea where they were from, but they spoke English and had accents not fully of this region, so her guess was as good as anyone's.

"Whoa, whoa, no need to get so defensive, little English partridge," he sneered. "You English and Dutch are allies though, ain't ya? I guess you would take her side."

"That has nothing to do with it!" Seras cried.

The truth was, yes, at this point in history, the English and Dutch were allies in Europe. They tended to support each other in wars, and were often opposed to France and Spain and other Catholic countries. For now, France and England were in something of a truce (something the Wild Geese complained bitterly of since they were not fond of the English), but who knew how long that would last, and whether it would even erase a lifetime of rivalry between the English and French? Why Seras Victoria, a single Englishwoman without any husband or family to speak of, chose to settle in a small French town was anyone's guess. Same with the Van Winkle family before her, but then that made Seras and Rip well suited to each other in this unfriendly town.

"I guess you'll just have to find some other foreigner now that the loony has finally taken off!" Jan sneered.

"With good reason, after everything that's happened!" Seras snarled.

The Geese did not find his triumphant laughter with his cohorts all that funny.

"Hey, it ain't _my_ fault the loony likes spreading lies!" Jan sneered.

Seras snarled and almost hit him with her tray, but with effort forced herself to leave the room and did not come out until after he had left.

Seras also tried to avoid Luke Valentine where she could, but even he managed to corner her eventually. "Seras, I get it," he said in a tone that showed he was trying to sound smooth and cool, but cracked like glass as his anger leaked out, "You didn't want to seem too eager to accept. Of course, no one would blame you, considering the types of people you associate with…"

Seras glared at him.

"However, refusing me in front of the entire town was not a wise choice. I consider myself a very patient man," he said in a voice that convinced her he was not, and he approached her with not a little aggression, "but even I have limits to how much coy behavior I can take. You've assured everybody of your prudence, now it's time to put this silly performance to rest and accept your new husband."

"Mr. Valentine, I'm not being coy!" Seras cried, "I've told you that already!" She continued making the rounds, trying to ignore him as he followed her and tried to corner her, but she lost him when she went to refill a round of beers.

"I find that very difficult to believe," he called after her, "since there is no proper reason for you to refuse."

Before Seras could respond, Jan piped up, "Because she's a stuck up bitch that thinks she's the fucking Queen of England."

Several patrons snickered at this.

"I don't think I'm the queen of anything!" Seras cried, "I just don't want to marry you, that's all!"

"That's all? What reason could you possibly have to not want to marry me?"

Seras scoffed and turned away.

"Seras! Do not scoff or roll your pretty little eyes at me!"

"Watch me," she mumbled under her breath, and served another round of beers to the Wild Geese.

Luke Valentine glared at her from a distance. "Seras, stop serving those Wild Geese and come over here!"

Captain Bernadotte smirked. So, the painted peacock was too scared to come near the flock of wild geese?

Seras must have known it too, because she retorted, "You aren't my husband! I don't have to obey you."

"It is only a matter of time," he said. "I know you cannot refuse an offer that is beneficial to you for long."

"Upon my word," she said in her native tongue, "your hope is an extraordinary one in lieu of my answer!"

"I know you to be a very simple country girl that does not know her interests," he said, "When an offer of ambrosia has been made upon a simple mortal, can he refuse the fruit of the gods for very long? Likewise, my simple little doe, you must realize my generous offer of marriage cannot be resisted for long."

Seras scoffed and turned away.

"Seras, you cannot work here forever," Luke said. "Suppose you were to lose your job, or lose favor with respectable townsfolk, what would you do then?"

"Mr. Valentine, if you are implying—!" Seras snapped.

"Why Seras, you misunderstand me… he began smoothly.

"No, I don't think I am!" Seras retorted.

"Ma bichette,** be reasonable…"

"If you do _anything_ to make me lose my job," Seras snarled in her native tongue, "I will just move to a different town. There are always places looking to hire. Nothing compels me to stay. If you _dare_ try to force my hand by taking my pay…"

"Seras, your French is getting sloppy again," Luke smirked.

"You will never see me again, mark my words!" Seras snarled.

"And where do you think you will go this time in winter?"

"Just leave me alone!" Seras finally snapped, and fled from him.

"Seras Victoria!" he snapped.

Luke continued to try to pressure Seras, until after a while the Geese began to intervene. Seeing that their favorite waitress was being hassled by unwanted male attention, many of them would tense up whenever Luke was talking to her in the tavern, and at one point their captain stood up and asked Seras if his fop was bothering her?

"Just leave me alone!" she snapped at him, pulling her arm away from his grasp, and fled both of them.

Luke and Pip glared at each other after she left, until Pip finally smirked and Luke was finally backed off. The tavern was no longer his domain.

As she was serving the Wild Geese their meals one evening, Captain Bernadotte said casually, "He's as relentless as a hunter, isn't he?"

"I don't want to hear that from a man who kills people for a living," Seras retorted, and walked away.

Pip furrowed his brows, and glared after her as she left.

Despite their overall dislike of Luke, some of the Wild Geese also wondered at her continued refusal despite the financial benefits of marriage.

"I don't see why you don't marry him, _a leanbh_,"*** one of the Geese said, leaning back with his hands behind his head, "You'd be set for life once you get married!"

"Yes, but then I'd have to be _married_ to him," Seras winced.

A few of them chuckled.

"Eh, I don't see much harm in that," one of the Geese said, "Sure, he's a pompous little pansy, but he seems pretty harmless."

Seras sighed. "Consider who his brother is."

"… All right, true, Jan is an ass," the man conceded, "but the older one is not so bad…"

"He can't be any better for them to come from the same place," Seras said. "Besides, Jan would not do half the things he does if his older brother did not let him."

"Aw, come on, he can't be that bad!" one of the Geese cried.

"Clearly, you have not lived here very long," Seras said, and walked away.

This piqued their interest, and they asked many questions about what Jan did that was so terrible. Seras would not tell them anything, and several young women in the tavern, who were usually smiling and cheerful to the Geese, became more sober once they brought up the topic of Jan. The easiest information to get came from other patrons, who had plenty of stories and rumors. Unfortunately, what they discovered was more unnerving than what they anticipated, and few of them could blame Seras for wanting nothing to do with the Valentine Brothers.

Despite Rip's absence and the brothers' wickedness, Seras tried to ignore the gossip and comments that came with her refusal. With effort, she eventually regained her old spirit and continued to try to work cheerfully and serve drinks and meals with a smile, except toward the Wild Geese. In fact, what bothered her more than the troubling news of her refusal was the news of the war and the presence of the mercenaries.

They were quite a help to the town during autumn when they were reaping the crops, though in light of winter most were still hoping they would leave soon. Having extra hands to help collect crops didn't do much good if they came with extra mouths to eat them too. Since the winter was looking to be a hard one and travel and fighting did not seem likely in the dead of it (especially the way the war was thought to be going), rumor had it that the mercenaries would either have to leave soon or wait till the start of spring.

Few were quite as disappointed about this as Seras, who saw how much rowdier and lustier they were getting with the colder weather. Since they had less to do now that crops were in, the mercenaries were growing restless with boredom. Unfortunately, Seras was on the receiving end of some of these advances, and so was having trouble hiding her true disdain for them.

"Aren't they ever going to leave?" she asked the tavern keeper one day, as she watched one of the mercenaries lustily grab one of the giggling bimbettes and dip her into a deep kiss, and the rest cheer loudly.

"It's hard to say," he said gruffly, cleaning glass, "If they don't get their marching orders soon, they might very well have to stay all winter."

"But they've already stayed longer than they should!" Seras said, "They were supposed to stay only a few weeks, then most of autumn, and now winter too?"

"Who can say what the generals are thinking?" the tavern keeper said. "Maybe the battle's going well enough they don't think they need mercenaries just yet. Maybe they want to keep them close at hand, since they don't have to actually pay them unless they're out there on the field."

"So then we're the ones who have to take up the tab?" Seras said angrily, her face flushed and her eyes tearing up. A small farming village to feed and house a band of hungry, rowdy, lusty mercenaries when they could barely afford to feed or house themselves? And in the dead of winter, no less!

"Looks to be like it," the tavern keeper shrugged. "What do high ranking colonels and generals care about the hardships of peasants?"

"What indeed?!" Seras cried, and stormed off.

She was so angry she felt she could boil water just by pouring it over her head. Any gentler feelings she might have had toward the Geese were dying with the warm weather. Their increased rambunctiousness only increased her impatience with them, and the various claims of pregnancy killed whatever likability she might have seen in them. Their baser natures were coming out with boredom as the cold weather forced them to stay indoors.

Their captain was giving her far more suggestive looks and offers recently, and she didn't like it one bit. She glared whenever she saw him and made a bigger point of avoiding him. Of course, she often tripped or stumbled over herself when she did this, which he often grinned and laughed at. This embarrassed her terribly, and she often glared as she blushed, or frowned as she looked away. Why could she never seem respectable to these men?

"You seem very tired, ma cher," he said one day as she walked by. His boots were up on the table again, only this time he patted his lap as she walked by, "Why don't you take a rest right here?"

"Non merci, Monsieur Bernadotte," Seras said without even looking at him. "I don't have time to rest."

One of the Geese then smirked, "Oh, I don't think you'll get any 'rest' where you'll be sitting."

"What are you talking about...?" Seras stopped when she saw where they were referring.

"I think you might get a nice burst of energy though," another leered.

Seras sighed and kept walking.

"Come on, ma cher," the captain smirked some time later. "It'll make you feel better."

"I highly doubt that, Mr. Bernadotte," Seras grimaced, her eyes averted.

"Come on, how do you know unless you try it?" he grinned.

"How do you know you don't like wet trousers unless you try them?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She poured the pitcher of beer she was holding right over his crotch.

Pip cursed and shot up from this chair.

"Told you," she said, and slipped away.

It seemed Seras was not able to get away from the captain's carnal desires no matter how she tried. The captain was indeed getting lustier with the colder weather just as much as his men were, and only found other willing partners when she refused. However, that did not stop him from coming onto Seras or giving other women attention right in front of her. Almost every night, it seemed Seras would crawl up the stairs to get back to her bed, only to find the captain of the mercenaries heavily snogging one of the women upstairs right in the hallway. Seras would balk or hide her eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Seras would cry.

"Oh, sorry, cher, didn't see you," he grinned, and his partner would giggle and arch her body into his.

"You have a room, Mr. Bernadotte! Use it!"

"Only if you'll join us," he grinned.

"GET OUT OF HERE!"

Seras learned to travel through the halls with a mob or broom so she could sweep the kissing couples away.

Seras was fast losing patience with Captain Bernadotte and the Wild Geese, and did not know how much more she could take.

It all came to a head one night when Pip came back a little late from an evening of fun out in the town. It was late in the autumn, almost into winter, so the night had fallen hours before and the wind was whistling hard and cold. He came into the warm little tavern, with the fires inside still blazing orange and bright. Inside the bar, he found sa cher once again cleaning up alone.

She looked tired and harried, but diligently wiped down the tables and set the chairs atop them. As she worked, she sang gently:

"_Listen, children, to a story  
That was written long ago,  
About a kingdom on a mountain  
And the valley-folk below._

_On the mountain was a treasure  
Buried deep beneath the stone.  
And the valley-people swore  
They'd have it for their very own."_

She pursed her lips and swabbed the last table with a vigorous swipe, and took up the broom.

"_So the people of the valley  
Sent a message up the hill,  
Asking for the buried treasure,  
Tons of gold for which they'd kill._

_Came an answer from the kingdom,  
'With our brothers we will share  
All the secrets of our mountain,  
All the riches buried there.'"_

Seras paused, plunged her mop into the bucket, and began smearing the water on the floor with vigor.

"_Go ahead and hate your neighbor!  
Go ahead and cheat a friend.  
Do it in the name of Heaven!  
You can justify it in the end.  
There won't be any trumpets blowing  
Come the Judgement Day!  
On the bloody morning after...!"_

Pip knew the lyrics to this song. 'One tin soldier rides away.'****

But instead, Seras surprised him by singing, _"One scared child cries alone."_

She sang this last line slowly and forlornly, then inhaled deeply, and carried on with more vigor.

"_Now the valley cried with anger:  
'Mount your horses! Draw your sword!'  
And they killed the mountain-people!  
So they won their just reward._

_Now they stood beside the treasure,_  
_On the mountain, dark and red!_  
_Turned the stone and looked beneath it..._  
_'Peace on Earth' was all it said."_

Her eyes welled up, _"'Peace on Earth' was all it said…"_

Her eyes narrowed in anger, _"'Peace on Earth' was all it said…!"_

Her teeth gritted and her lips pulled back into a snarl of rage, and as she mopped violently she bellowed:

"_Go ahead and __**kill**__ your neighbor!  
Go ahead and __**rape a friend**__!  
Do it in the name of Heaven!  
Oh, I'm sure that God will justify it in the end!  
There won't be any trumpets blowing  
Come the Judgement Day!  
On the bloody morning after...!"_

Her eyes watered with sorrow,_ "One scared child cries alone..."_

Her eyes narrowed with bitterness,_ "One scared child cries alone…!"_

Her teeth gritted with injustice and outrage,_ "One scared child cries alone!"_

Her expression then hardened, she grabbed the mop and began spinning as she swabbed, and looked like she was rearing into another tirade via song.

"Go ahead and-!"

Seras screamed and dropped her mop when she saw Pip.

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN STANDING THERE?!" she screamed in English, too flustered to use the local tongue.

He shrugged. "Eh, long enough for the 'Peace on Earth' bit-"

"YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!" she screeched, mortified. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide.

Most of the townsfolk had never even travelled outside the village, let alone seen an Englishman, let alone heard the English language spoken, let alone understood it, so Seras often groused and grumbled in her native tongue. Only the Brothers Valentine understood, but she hardly cared what they thought. Most of the Wild Geese spoke a strange combination of Irish and French, with only the occasional English word or phrase thrown in. But this man spoke fluently enough to understand her? That meant… All the things she'd ever said…!

"Of course," he said casually, "I spent the last few years…"

"GET OUT!" Seras thundered, her voice deep and hard, just as suddenly and angrily as she had to the Valentine Brothers regarding Rip Van Winkle.

"Aw, come on, ma cher…"

"Don't you 'ma cher' me! The tavern is closed! You aren't even supposed to be here! GET OUT!"

"If you'd just let me…"

"No! You get out of here or I'll clean your clock! Harder than it's ever been cleaned before!"

"Is that a promise?"

"**GET OUT!"**

By this point, several patrons upstairs were opening their doors to see what all the commotion was about. Downstairs, Seras was driving the captain out with her mop. Unfortunately, he did not flee outright as she expected, but slowly backed up one step at a time. Even then, he only moved to dodge the swings of her mop, step by step. His slow speed naturally fueled her anger even further.

"GET OUT! GET OUT!" she screeched, now seriously trying to hit him, "Not when you feel like it! When I tell you! You God-forsaken soldiers think you own everything! _**GET OUT!**_"

Pip just barely crossed the threshold when Seras chucked a dirty rag in his face and slammed the door behind it, and he was left in darkness.

"Jesus, Captain," one of his men said from halfway up the stairs. From the scarce light, he noticed a few more were looking down from the top of the stairs. "What hell was that about?"

"How the fuck should I know?!"

The next morning, Seras was in a far fouler mood than usual. She openly glared at them from afar, and only came to get their orders after every other patron was served. Her movements were quick and snappish, and she treated them all like ill-behaved children, and was just as severe with them.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"Um… I didn't ask for anything."

"Then why in hell did you drag me over here?"

"I didn't!" he cried, holding up his hands in surrender.

Even at her worst, Seras had often been a little cranky and peevish, but never outright hostile. The men didn't even feel like giving her the usual sass, though a few brave souls made pitiful efforts that died in their throats, thanks to her piercing glare. The food she brought to them was noticeably colder and staler than usual.

"We have to get rid of the unsold porridge somehow," Seras said to the complaints, "Normally we feed it to the pigs, but since you lot insist on talking and acting like pigs, I figure it's just as well."

The Geese could not believe her gumption. They just stared blankly at their plates.

"Jesus, Captain! What'd you do to piss her off?"

"Nothing!"

Silence.

"Uh-huh."

"Tell me another one."

"It's true!" Pip snapped, "I was minding my own business and then she started swinging at me for no reason!" Then, after a pause: "Maybe she's menstruating."

"I HEARD THAT, YOU DIRTY LOUT!"

"WELL, IT'S TRUE, YOU HORMONAL BITCH!"

"DON'T YOU **DARE** SAY THAT TO ME!"

"Oh God, it's like I'm back home with my parents!" one of the Geese cried, burying his head in his hands.

"You know, Captain, fighting like this is why I ran away to join the Wild Geese in the first place."

"Hey, it ain't **my** fault the girl takes every damned thing so personally!" Pip snapped.

"And yet you're always testing me!" Seras retorted from across the room.

The patron she was serving flinched away from her, and others prepared to sit further across the room.

"Well, maybe I wouldn't if you didn't throw a hissy fit over every little thing!"

"Well, maybe I wouldn't if you weren't such an insufferable ass all the time!"

"Seras Victoire!" the tavern keeper called warningly.

"What?!"

"You know, Captain," one of his men said calmly and patiently, "As much fun as it is watching you two play out your little drama, for once I'd like to sit down to a pleasant meal."

"Maybe you could if had a serving wench who was actually good at her job," Pip retorted, glaring after Seras.

"Oh no, don't you start!" Seras retorted, rounding off on him again. "I have brought _everything_ you have ever asked me to bring, so you have no right to complain!"

"Yeah, and you give the shittiest service I've ever seen," Pip snapped.

"Then ask someone else!" Seras retorted, "There are plenty of girls in this tavern, why don't you ever bother one of them for a change?!"

Pip finally snapped.

"Excuse me, what the hell is your problem?!" he demanded, turning his chair so he was facing her.

"You're my problem!" Seras snapped. She was getting even more riled with every word, and slammed her tray on a nearby table and rounded on Pip like she was ready to thrash him. "You never _shut up_! You never stop bothering me! For one day, I just want to do my work without you trying to get up my skirt!"

"Well, excuse me for fucking living, you goddamn..."

"NO!" Seras snapped, "Don't you dare start that! You don't get to burst into my life and act like _you're_ the one put out!"

The Wild Geese grimaced. The fight was getting intense. Seras had long looked like she was ready to lunge at Pip and he too looked ready to throttle her right back. They each looked and acted like dogs prepared to maul each other over a scrap of meat.

"Oh, that again? When the fuck are you going to let that go?"

"If I've told you once, I've told you ten times! Do not to come into the tavern after closing hours!"

"Look, it's not a big deal…"

"It is a big deal because I told you not to go there!" Seras cried, "I have to see you every day! Almost every hour. Even now on my days off since Rip Van left town. After hours is my only time to be alone and work in peace! And you can't even let me have that!"

"Look, if you hate us so much then maybe you should get a different job..."

"I've TRIED! There's nothing else available!"

"Well, maybe you should get used to it instead of throwing a bitch fit..."

"And maybe you should just go the fuck away so I don't have to see your ugly face every day!"

"All right, things got a little out of hand," one of the Geese said, "Why don't we all just take a moment to cool down…"

"'One scared child cries alone,'" Pip said calmly. "That was you, wasn't it?"

Seras looked as though she had been shot with an arrow. Her eyes widened, her face drained of blood.

"… You shut your mouth!" Seras finally cried.

"Look, I get it," Pip snarled, "Something bad happened to you when you were young, but that's no reason to take it out on me!"

"Of course it is!" Seras screamed, rounding off on him even more violently than before, her fists clenched and her eyes blazing. "You're just the same as them!"

Pip's eye widened in shock. "…Excuse me?"

"You're just the same as them!" Seras shouted again, with a sweep of her arm. Now she was winding up to get angrier than ever. "You're all the same! Soldiers and mercenaries, savages and barbarians that kill people for money, then fritter it away on drinks and women and…!"

Pip's glare darkened. "I have never once, in my life, taken any life that was not in front of me on the battlefield."

"Oh, and that makes it all right? They're still sons and husbands and fathers!" Seras retorted.

"They entered the battlefield of their own choice!"

"Captain…!" one of his men said worriedly.

"Oh, and that makes it any better?!" Seras snapped, "It's all right to kill a man just because he's on the field instead of his own home?"

"Look here—"

"A life is a life! The location doesn't change, murder is murder!"

Pip's eye widened, and then his expression darkened considerably, "And what of men fighting to defend their country? Or their families? It's not all right to defend their home?"

"I've never met a soldier that fights for that," Seras snarled. "Least of all men like you."

Pip glared. "What do you know about it?!"

"I've known plenty of soldiers in my life!" Seras snarled, and slammed her fist on a wooden table, "Don't even pretend you're any different!"

The fight was descending into a dark place. Seras only grew more hostile and agitated the more they fought; all pretenses at politeness gone. For months, she had put up with the mercenaries and hid her true feelings toward them, snapping at them only about their current offenses and not past ones. However, weeks of dealing with their antics and news that they were going to stay all winter had worn away at her patience, and her raw fear and anger burst out like a geyser. Likewise, all bits of playfulness was gone from Pip's voice, and he was also truly angry with her for the first time.

"There's no difference between any of you!" Seras finally screamed at the top of her lungs and swept her hands as she gestured to the Wild Geese. Many of them looked hurt and offended to be included in her sweeping generalizations. "You're all the same! Nothing but _murderers_ and rapists that destroy families and ruin women, unable to feel anything except—!"

"So this is your opinion of me?" Pip snarled, his teeth clenched and his eyes ablaze.

"What other opinion could I possibly have?!"

Pip stood up suddenly, the chair scrapping against the wooden floorboard.

Seras gasped and flinched back, then set her face to a hard glare with eyes defying him to try anything.

However, Pip just scoffed and walked out of the tavern, his hands in his pockets.

Seras and the Geese watched him go. Seras' face was still set with anger, and she was breathing hard through her nostrils, but her eyes were bright with confusion. The Geese watched their captain with sympathy. After the door closed, they looked at Seras with such reproachful eyes that even she was taken aback. Without saying another word, most of them also rose, left a few coins on the table and walked out of the tavern too. Several more just turned back to their meals without saying another word.

Through her veneer of anger, Seras felt deeply confused.

The Wild Geese lieutenant, who was a bit older and calmer than his captain, spoke to Seras as she brought him dinner later that day.

"Do you know how the Wild Geese came to France, mademoiselle?"

"Hm?"

"You know we're foreigners. Did you ever wonder how we came to France?"

"… No," she admitted, "I do not."

"Heh, I'm guessing you're familiar with the _Cogadh an Dá Rí_, or the 'War of the Two Kings'?"

"Why would I know that?"

He snorted, "You should. It has everything to do with your home country. Many years ago, England and the countries it occupied fought over the succession of two kings: The Catholic James II, and the Protestant William of Orange. Remember?"

"I'm too young," Seras said.

He snorted, "Obviously."

He meant did she remember hearing about the war, not whether she remembered living through it.

Seras furrowed her eyebrows. What was he getting at?

"At any rate," he continued, "We Irish supported King James II, not just because he was Catholic, but he went against your Parliament and signed many sympathetic Catholics laws, which we of course supported in Ireland since English Protestants subjugated our land and made us poor serfs in our own country."

"I hardly had anything to do with that, sir," Seras said.

"Have any of us ever held your English heritage against you?"

Seras wanted to say yes, but after thinking about it further, she realized she could not. The Wild Geese had often made fun of Seras for being English, and asked her many stupid and degrading questions about her heritage just to annoy her, but they never once brought up or held the English occupation of Ireland against her. It was something they had every right to be angry about, yet they never did. Seras' eyes widened with this realization.

"At any rate," he continued, "Much of the war was fought on Irish soil, aided by French troops, until we lost to the Williamites during the Siege of Limerick. After King James II fled to France, many of his followers went with him. Thanks to the Treaty of Limerick, we Irish soldiers that had opposed the Protestants in the war were allowed to follow King James to France (rather than the alternative), and serve as mercenary brigades in the French Army. We fondly remember this as 'The Flight of the Wild Geese.'"

"Is this going anywhere?" Seras asked, gesturing to her other patrons.

"I was but a lad when we left Ireland," he said, "My father served under General Patrick Sarsfield, and he brought my mother and siblings when his brigade migrated to France. Most of the soldiers did. In fact, almost half the Wild Geese that left the homeland were wives, mothers and child. We're not all just ganders looking for new pastures, but mother geese and goslings looking for new nests."

He paused to let that sink in.

"I'm sure you want to paint us with a broad stroke of soldiers looking to defile new beds, but there are almost as many women and children among the Wild Geese. Hell, most of us here are mere sons of soldiers that fought in the war, brought to France and raised by those from the motherland. We can't live as free citizens in our homeland thanks to Protestant occupation, and we cannot live as full citizens in France since our heritage gives us away. There are those, like our captain, who were born and raised as one of the French, but none of us can pass as such since we are spotted by our mercenary families."

Before Seras could object, he continued: "Most of us were singled out as sons of murderers before we even knew what mercenaries were. Any Sean, Liam or Brian can tell you the same. Most of us grew up with nothing but our mercenary families - fathers, mothers, uncles, aunts, siblings - to support us. You might think our family business amoral, but when you are singled out as a foreigner in your own land, with no other way of life but that you're born into and no way to branch out or distinguish yourself in another profession... the choice is not so simple."

Seras inhaled deeply. "... I've been alone and poor most of my life," she finally said calmly, "I could be turning tricks upstairs for coins, but I'm not. I made the choice to do better, be better. I make it every day. Do not tell me about choices, _sir_, because you have made yours," and with that, she walked away.

Later that afternoon, one of the women upstairs went to talk to Seras.

"So," she said nonchalantly, "I heard you and the captain had a falling out."

"Word travels fast," Seras grumbled.

"No, I mean I heard it from upstairs," she said dryly, "You two have no indoor voices."

"Oh…" Seras said, then frowned and crossed her arms. "Well, you keep me up all the time with your customers, so I'm not apologizing."

The woman laughed at this little display of wit. "You truly are such a child."

"No I'm not!"

"Yes, you are. You see the world in such extremes of black and white. Didn't anyone ever teach you the world is many shades of grey?"

"The only people I've heard say that," Seras scoffed, "Are those who have plenty of black to spare."

The woman laughed. "So you think _I'm_ evil?"

The irony was not lost on her that in a time when people forgave men for the same vices they condemned in women, Seras oddly condemned vices in men that she forgave in women. It was part of what put her on good terms with the women upstairs in the first place, despite her chastity and the town's hypocritical condemnation of them.

"N-no!" Seras cried, aghast.

"But why not?" Manon smirked, "I have plenty of black. I'm certainly not white. I lie with men for money. Sometimes I do so for gifts. Sometimes just for fun. You're willing to forgive me for the same vices you condemn in the Wild Geese?"

"That's different!" Seras cried, "They're soldiers! Devils!"

"You must admit you need to give even the devil his right."

"He doesn't deserve any!" Seras cried, "Evil men deserve the scorn they get!"

It was around this time that Captain Bernadotte walked nearby and started hearing their conversation.

"You reject the good even with the bad!" Manon cried, "The Wild Geese are not so terrible as you suppose, and Captain Bernadotte in particular can be quite the gentleman in bed—"

"I don't want to know that!" Seras cried, aghast.

"It's true, ma chou. Men show their true colors in the bedroom. Some are rough and cruel, some are kind and gentle, some are selfish and only care about themselves, and some can be... quite generous. It's quite the same with these Wild Geese, who are all men under their uniforms. As for the captain, you would be surprised by just how…"

"I don't want to know!" Seras cried, her eyes closed and her hands over her ears, "That's not something I ever want to know!"

"Oh Seras," Manon sighed. "He's really not so bad once you get to know him…" Seras glared and crossed her arms even harder. In this time, to "get to know" a man could mean something else. "Why don't you give him a chance?" she asked in a voice that was all honey.

"I don't want to get to know him!" Seras shouted angrily, "I don't want to have anything to do with him!"

Pip gritted his teeth, and then finally snatched the cigarette out of his mouth. He realized he'd just been fooling himself. No matter what he said, what he did, she would never see him as anything… but a monster.

He thought of all the good times they had together in the tavern. Well, for him they had been good, but Seras had hated them more than she had let on. He enjoyed some good bickering, but he had not realized how deeply her apparent hatred for him ran. While he knew she did not have the highest opinion of him, he had not realized just how evil she thought he was, or how thoroughly she had meant every insult. There were none so blind as those who refused to see, and no matter what anyone said, she did not want to see him as anything but a murderer and a rapist.

Pip narrowed his eyes, and walked away. He let the cigarette drop from his hands so that it fell into the dirt, where it fizzled out.

Seras, for her part, had time to let her anger cool down as she mulled over her words. Captain Bernadotte did not come back into the tavern for drinks or meals, and neither did most of the Wild Geese. Those that did ordered from whatever serving girl happened to be nearby, and ate or drank without bothering her. After a while they eased back into their usual chatter and laughter, though it was not quite as loud or boisterous as before. Most of the other patrons found it a little odd after getting used to the roar of laughter and the dirty songs and jokes for so long, but at least they could enjoy their own gossip without delay.

Seras found it a little odd too, but she would never admit it. This was exactly what she wanted. The Geese were mostly gone. There were few to serve, they were quieter and mostly respectful than before, and they mostly left her alone. Yet…why did it feel like a hollow victory?

Later that first night, when the fiddlers played and the patrons sang, a new melody rang out. One of the women from upstairs, who was usually too busy with clients to come down, sat among the men and sang a new Irish melody. She always had a beautiful singing voice, and tonight she put it to use as she sang a very slow and melancholic song. The music alone was enough to make one weep, and the lyrics were even sadder, and her lovely voice brought the whole thing round.

"His hair was black, his eye was blue  
His arm was stout, his word was true  
I wish in my heart, I was with you,  
Go thee, thu Mavourneen slaun.  
_Shule, shule, shule agra__  
__Only death can cease my woe,__  
__Since the lad of my heart from me did go__  
__Go thee thu Mavourneeen slaun!__  
_  
I sold my rock, I sold my wheel  
When my flax was spun, I sold my wheel  
To buy my love a sword of steel.  
Go thee, thu Mavourneen slaun.  
_Shule, shule, shule agra__  
__Only death can cease my woe,__  
__Since the lad of my heart from me did go__  
__Go thee thu Mavourneeen slaun!__  
_  
I'll dye my petticoat, I'll dye it red,  
And round the world I'll beg my bread,  
Till I find my love alive or dead,  
Go thee, thu Mavourneen slaun.  
_Shule, shule, shule agra__  
__Only death can cease my woe,__  
__Since the lad of my heart from me did go__  
__Go thee thu Mavourneeen slaun!__  
_  
King James was routed in the fray;  
The 'wild-geese' went with him away,  
My boy went too, that dreary day,  
Go thee, thu Mavourneen slaun.  
_Shule, shule, shule agra__  
__Only death can cease my woe,__  
__Since the lad of my heart from me did go__  
__Go thee thu Mavourneeen slaun!"*****_

The song was very melancholic and introspective, and it made Seras think of her unkind words. She had always thought soldiers nothing but wild men that reaped lives and women like fruits in a farm. Yet… She thought of all the things she'd said to the captain, the look in his eye when she called him a murderer, how he had stood up and stormed out. Had she been too unkind? Had she judged him too harshly? Part of her wanted to say no, that he was everything she thought he was, he had made her job and her life so difficult, and he deserved every bit of scorn he got.

Yet, underneath the anger, Seras saw the look in his eyes as she called him those horrible things. She saw how… how hurt, how human. She didn't think her words could cut so deep. Nothing she ever said ever bothered him, and she assumed that conversation would be no exception. She had wanted to hurt him, to cut him, but when it actually happened… she felt terrible about it.

She thought of how sober the men seemed around her after she told them how she saw them. She thought of the lieutenant explaining how their people fought for the freedom of their homeland, then migrated to serve a leader they believed in, and how they had brought their families with them. The Wild Geese were more than just men in uniforms; they were also wives, mothers, and children. The flock of wild geese included mother geese and goslings.

The thought of mother geese and goslings reminded her of the geese she saw by the river. She had watched whole families of geese swimming in the water. Families of geese made her think of families of people; of Irishmen in jackets green coming home to smiling wives and wild-haired children. These Irishmen were foreigners in this land just as she was, but most of them were born and raised here. Seras lived in France only a few years, yet no one ever let her forget she was English. She could only imagine if she'd lived here her whole life; being treated like a foreigner in the very place she grew up in.

To always feel cast out, to feel like she could never be anything but how others painted her. Everyone condemned them as foreigners and mercenaries no matter where they lived or what they did, and likely denied them jobs in any other place. They were born to mercenaries, raised among mercenary families, and likely felt they could never be anything but mercenaries. Could… would things be different if they had other options? Seras certainly would never be a serving girl if she had better options available.

Seras thought of these things as she was mopping up downstairs after hours. She stared absently with her mop in her hands, and thought of the Wild Geese sleeping upstairs, and the captain somewhere among them. Maybe she should… apologize next time she saw him? Flag him down before he could duck out the door? Would he even accept it?

As Seras stood thinking of these things, she heard the front door blow open. She turned her face toward the whistling wind and the cold air to see Jan Valentine enter the tavern. He was leering maliciously.

"Ey! How's my little English tartlette?" he sneered.

Seras frowned. How on earth did he get in? She was sure she had locked the door.

"I'm sorry Jan, but you need to leave. The bar's closed for tonight."

"Excuse you? My family owns this fucking town. I'll go wherever I damned well please."

Seras glared. "Your family may be one of the wealthiest, but you still don't own this establishment. If you want a room, you'll just have to come back tomorrow. The tavern is closed for the night."

"Aw, I think you're disrespecting me," he sneered, and walked closer to her. She held her mop like a weapon. "You think you're better than me, you nameless little tramp?"

"Jan Valentine, that's enough!" Seras snapped, and walked around him, partly to keep her distance and partly to get to the door to see him out. "As I said, you'll have to come back tomorrow. The tavern is closed."

Jan sneered, and giggled maniacally. "Maybe, but you aren't."

Then he snapped his fingers.

At that moment, Seras felt a thick cloth wrap around her mouth and jerk her head back so hard she fell backwards against a clothed person. Seras immediately screamed into the gag and struggled against her captor. She twisted and kicked out, then felt a few more hands grab her roughly round the arms. She turned out to be stronger than the expected, for the stranger had to tie the gag tightly around her head before he could fully to restrain her. Seras writhed and flailed wildly.

"What's the matter, little English chickie?" Jan sneered, "You think you're too good for my brother?"

Seras screamed into the gag again and tried to untie it, but felt rough hands grab and hold her down.

"You're just a common whore," Jan leered at her, "same as every other woman in this tavern. You just don't know it yet."

Seras cursed him into her gag as loud as she could, then kicked him in the face.

"GYAH! FUCK!" he screamed, holding his face in his hands.

"Shh! You wanna wake the folks upstairs?" one of his cohorts hissed.

Seras' eyes widened, then she began struggling harder, kicking at anything she could get her legs on. She kicked over the mop bucket, kicked at the nearest table despite putting up the chairs already, stomped her feet against the wooden floorboards. She screamed into her gag as loud she possibly could into her gag and struck at anything she could touch, praying that anyone might hear.

"Shit! Hold her down!"

Several coarse hands grabbed her arms and leg, and tied her hands behind her back. Seras kept trying to twist out of their grip, then even threw herself against one of them to try to throw him off.

"What the fuck ever, man!" Jan grinned, "Little English she-bitch makes noise all the time downstairs. No one's gonna notice anything off."

Seeing a man prop himself up with a forearm to the floor, she threw all her body weight into a head-butt against it, causing him to yell with pain. She then felt him a hand yank her by the arm while a closed fist pounded on her face.

"Shit!"

"Goddamn it-!"

Seras screamed as loud as she could into her gag, then kicked and thrashed at every solid surface she could reach.

Jan was snickering sadistically.

"What's the matter, little she-bitch? One man ain't good enough for you? How about seven?"

He smirked as several more appeared from the shadows.

Seras' eyes widened and she started twisting and writhing even harder, and lashed out wildly as they held her down.

"What's the matter, you little hay-penny whore? I thought you liked it here in this tavern, getting fucked by many men."

A few cohorts managed to hold her down while Jan began pawing at her long skirts. Seras screaming into her gag and twisted and writhed harder than ever, desperately trying to kick and twist away from him. However, she could feel several coarse hands grab her and hold her down in several places, and Jan managed to press himself far enough between her legs that she could no longer kick him. The sight and sound of his giggling and lusty panting as he tore through her skirts pierced her soul.

True panic seized her for the first time. Horrible flashbacks raced across her mind. Her anger and defiance broke as primal fear burst through. Seras screamed out of sheer terror into her gag and shrank from her attacker as he tore through her layers.

Just then, he was lifted off her.

Captain Pip Bernedotte had lifted Jan by the scruff and punched him so hard he flew backwards and hit a table.

Seras' eyes widened, and several of her captors flinched. Pip used that opportunity to shove several away with one arm pull her closer with another, and stood over her protectively.

"Shit! It's one of the mercenaries!"

"What do we do?"

"You fucking morons!" Jan snapped over from where he was, "There's only one of him and several of you! Get him!"

Realizing their advantage in numbers, the cohorts then started smirking sadistically as they advanced on him.

"What if there's more?" one coward in the corner asked.

"You shit-head! They're all blackout drunk," he snapped, "Just get him before anyone wakes up."

Then, just like that, they all rushed him. Being a seasoned veteran, Pip had far more experience and skill in combat. However, they still outnumbered him eight to one, and not one of them fought fair. They charged at him while swinging chairs, one pulled out a hidden blade, and one even smashed a bottle to cut him up with the broken glass. Pip was very good at reading his opponents' moves, dodging and disarming, but even he soon became overwhelmed by the cheer number of opponents. Several of them managed to land at least a partial hit before Pip could smack their weapons aside or shove them back. He managed to dodge a chair and break the cohort's grip on it by shoving his shoulder against his hand, or grab a cohort's wrist and twist it so he dropped the blade, use said cohort as a club or a shield to give or take hits, and so on and so forth. However, they just kept coming for more, and he could not fully take them down before they drove at him again and again.

At one point, two of them managed to restrain him while others started punching him in the face, the chest and even the back. One of the assailant was standing not too far from Seras. Seeing his leg close to hers, Seras put all her strength into a swipe kick. This managed to distract him long enough for Pip to throw off one of his restrainers and punch him in the face.

It was a very bloody and intense battle. Several men managed to land hits, stabs, and even bludgeon hits that left Captain Bernadotte bloody and bruised. He often gasped and groaned in pain, and at one point cried out when an assailant managed to stab him in the side with the broken bottle. Seras' eyes widened in horror, and for several agonizing moments she was terrified that they would kill him.

Thankfully, the commotion finally woke some people upstairs, and the few Geese still not completely drunk came rushing down.

"Captain!"

"What the hell?"

A final punch from Pip, combined with the sight of the new Geese, finally scared the cowards off, and they fled the tavern.

Seras still sat with her arms bound. Captain Bernadotte stood before her, bruised and bleeding, but victorious. He was panting from pain and exhaustion, and stared at her with an unreadable expression. To her eyes, he never seemed so tall, so strong, so rugged, or so... handsome. She tensed as he stumbled over to her and half-collapsed onto his knees right before her. Her eyes widened in concern, then she flinched when he flashed a knife. In one deft cut, he sliced the cloth that bound her hands. Seras used them to pull the gag from her mouth.

"Are you all right?" he asked, still breathing raggedly.

"I'm fine," Seras whispered earnestly, "What about you?"

The moment was broken when the Geese ran over to him.

"Captain!"

"Jesus, what the hell was that about?"

A new terror seized her. She didn't want them to see her like this. While they were looking at their captain, Seras scrambled to her feet and made for the stairs.

"It's nothing," he rasped, "Just a pack of wild beasts trying to find an easy snack."

Seras paused at the stairway. She clutched the handrail, and part of her wanted nothing more than to dart upstairs into her room and slam the door behind her. She wanted the safety, silence, and solidarity of her own room. However… a small part of her felt like, if she did that, something between them would close forever.

Against her baser fears, she turned back to look at the men. The captain was still kneeling on the ground, wincing and clutching his side in pain, and two of his men were looking over him in consternation. These rugged, scruffy men looked on each other with such humanity and concern. These dirty, vulgar men showed more compassion than most common folk she had encountered, and looked on her with more concern than those she trusted with her life.

"Hey girl, are you all right?"

What touched her heart was the genuine concern in his voice.

Seras again looked longingly up the upstairs, and then willed herself courage. With all her willpower, she turned away from the dark corridor and toward the warm firelight that illuminated these men.

* * *

... And that's all I've got for now. I'm sorry, I originally intended to include the next scene, but I just don't have it in me right now. I'll cover the fallback in the next chapter.

Okay, translations. That's right. I looked up terms of endearment in Dutch and Irish as well as French. I figure I might as well educate as entertain.

*Doe-doei, livered: Dutch. Roughly translates to "Bye-bye, darling!"

**Ma bichette: French. Means "my little deer" (as in the animal).

_***A leanbh_ (uh LAN-uv): Irish. Literally "my child."

**** "One Tin Soldier" is a 1960s era anti-war song written by Dennis Lambert and Brian Potter. It's not a pre-18th century European folk song, but the lyrics seemed perfect for the emotions I wanted Seras to convey. Actual anti-war songs from that time period are very rare because most Europeans still thought war was honorable and glorious. The worst you saw were songs about women mourning their lost loves or male relatives (like Seras' High Germany English folk song last chapter), but that was it. This needed to be a song that flat out denounced war and all the reasons behind it.

***** Shule Agra. An old Irish folk song dating back to the 17th century, it has many different versions, names, lyrics, you name it. I think the most common or well-known version is Shule Aroon, which is similar to Shule Agra(sh), which shares many lyrics and themes in common with Johnny's Gone For a Soldier (also about a young woman that chooses to sell everything she owns and beg for a living as she travels searching for her lost soldier love) and Sweet William and other songs. Honestly, there are so many versions to each version of the song that I'll never be able to tell you which is what, but I strongly encourage you to look up Shule Agra(h) or Shule Aroon for yourself. They're all wonderful songs. I just chose this version because it specifically mentions the Flight of the Wild Geese.


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